


my small universe (holding my entire world)

by thedyingone



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: .....not-hyung baekhyun, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Space, Angst, Apocalypse, Hurt, M/M, Misunderstandings, OT9 - Freeform, Open to Interpretation, Stupid shit, and AGE SWAP yeet forgot abt that, and if you got a problem with MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH back out now, hyung chanyeol, i know a lot of people read without knowing all the tags, please please please read archive warnings before reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 09:10:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17056934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedyingone/pseuds/thedyingone
Summary: where could he be, his byun baekhyun? chanyeol misses him dearly.





	my small universe (holding my entire world)

**Author's Note:**

> shav, thank you for waiting. you've waited so long. 
> 
> this one is all for you

for sharvari,

 

Chanyeol sees the first tremor when he’s ten. The sky above him blazes a bright red and somewhere in the distance, far to his right, it splits in two. It’s a small rip from where Chanyeol can see it, like a hole in your trousers’ knee, but the light around it is enormous. He watches the threads rip apart at the seams, eyes wide and afraid beside his friend, Baekhyun. And the ripples come silently through the air, knock the wind out of them both with a force so great they fall to the ground. School is closed the next day.

 

It’s in the news for weeks, a constant reminder of the hole in the sky near Chanyeol’s galaxy. It remains apparent to the naked eye for days on end, growing bigger each day. Chanyeol is afraid for a little while - “Baekhyun, what if the world ends? I don’t want to die!” - but slowly the fear resides.

 

In its place grows curiosity, a genuine desire to understand what’s happening, what’s behind the hole in the sky. From his window, Chanyeol can see nothing but a glimmering white light pouring through, a never-ending stream of milky translucent. It’s wondrous, Chanyeol thinks, that Baekhyun also dyes his hair soon after. He finds it pleasantly surprising that the colour in the sky resembles Baekhyun’s new hair so perfectly. At least now when he peers at it, he is reminded of good things instead of bad.

 

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun murmurs one day, eyes downcast. He wrings his hands together, obviously discomforted or hurt.

 

“Those girls keep wanting to touch my hair,” he continues. Behind him Chanyeol can see a group of girls giggling behind their hands, huddled together as if guarding a delicate secret. Chanyeol smiles a little. Baekhyun’s hair really is very lovely, now that it’s all white and shimmering. He looks like an angel.

 

“Don’t worry about them, Baek!” Chanyeol assures with a booming voice. Baekhyun falls into the other’s warm embrace, sighing contently into Chanyeol’s chest.

 

“Being extremely cool comes with its downsides, doesn’t it?”

 

Baekhyun shushes him, cheeks warm and glowing.

 

//

 

It doesn’t occur to Chanyeol that Baekhyun can glow for a while. He feels two more tremors, one very soft, a dull humming in his bones while he eats dinner; the universe tears apart far from his galaxy this time.

 

The third one Chanyeol does not feel. He sleeps through it, arms full of a peaceful Baekhyun buried close to his body. They are twelve, chests rising and falling softly, hearts content with the company of the other. When Chanyeol wakes that morning, he wakes to a dim white light filling his room. At first he thinks it a vision of his sleepy eyes, but nothing changes when he blinks once, twice, three more times.

 

He turns to Baekhyun, stares at the boy before him emitting the strange light. It appears from inside of him, Chanyeol realises, like the blood beneath Baekhyun’s skin is not blood at all but liquid stars.  

 

Chanyeol cannot breathe for entire moments. He does not reach out a hand to touch, too afraid to meddle with the unknown, but he remains beside the sleeping boy a long while, drinking in the sight of his best friend breathing softly, spilling beams of light from his lips and fingertips and eyes.

 

It occurs to Chanyeol that it could all be a dream, shown to him by the heavens as something to cherish and remember. Baekhyun is so lovely, all soft heart and soft soul. He is as delicate and beautiful as the stars around them. Maybe he will glow like this again when Chanyeol sleeps most contently.

 

He shuffles closer to the smaller boy and closes his arms around his body. It feels surreal, an almost ethereal feeling, to hold a shining Baekhyun in his arms.

 

//

 

Chanyeol cries when he learns that their universe is dying. It’s a cold, gloomy day. The winds roar like the aching in his chest, and they remain this way for hours.  

 

It’s broadcasted on galactic news, a wide scale announcement of utmost urgency that sends Chanyeol’s entire galaxy into a moment of shock.

 

The scientists say the universe is dying, every inch of it will be gone.

 

Chanyeol’s mother cries silently too, afraid of what’s to come. They hold each other tightly, revelling in the safety of each other’s warm embrace. Chanyeol lets out a loud sob when he realises that maybe he can never hold his mum like this again. The rips in the sky are unpredictable, have remained this way since the very first one two years ago. This could be his very last time.

 

How sad, Chanyeol thinks, to be realising such things at such an age.

 

But there are others younger than him who will be robbed of their fruitful years, and Chanyeol’s mind drifts to Baekhyun - lovely, lovely Baekhyun.

 

The howling in his chest is deafening.

 

//

 

It’s a most unsettling desperation, Chanyeol comes to realise, how much more Baekhyun makes his heart ache when they are together. They see each other at school for the first time after the announcement. Baekhyun stands alone by the entrance, holding his bag to his back with both hands and looking around for his friend. He waits for Chanyeol like this when they don’t travel to school together.

 

There is a slow trickle of students into the school this morning - Baekhyun stands out clearly to Chanyeol, unlike other days when the crowds swallow him whole.

 

Chanyeol stops before the shorter boy, eyes trailing over Baekhyun’s soft hair and soft cheeks tinged pink from the unforgiving heat. He holds his breath.

 

“Chanyeol-ah,” Baekhyun speaks quietly. There is an air of fear drifting around the boy, and Chanyeol can see it in his friend’s eyes and clenched fists and trembling lips.

 

The universe could tear them apart.

 

Chanyeol holds out his arms, reaches for Baekhyun and pulls him close. He dies inside when he hears quiet sobbing. Baekhyun’s shoulders shake gently, and Chanyeol fights the urge to unravel before him. The tears in his eyes are stinging.

 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he whispers into Baekhyun’s hair. He tries to believe so, that things will be okay. But how can he know for sure?

 

They fit into each other so nicely; Chanyeol rests his cheek on the smaller boy’s head and Baekhyun muffles his cries into the taller’s chest. He tightens his hold on Chanyeol impossibly so, little hands clasped together at the back as if to never let go.

 

Chanyeol could never let go.

 

He cards his fingers through Baekhyun’s hair.

 

 _How do I protect him_ , he thinks desperately. _Look at him ache._

 

Baekhyun’s cries do not cease. He whimpers and sniffles like a hurt puppy, afraid and lost and seeking refuge in the safety of Chanyeol’s arms.

 

“Hyung,” he sobs brokenly, voice shattering in his plea. There is light spilling past Baekhyun’s lips and nose, glistening silver streaming down his cheeks.

 

Chanyeol can do nothing but hold him closer. He does not know better than to fold Baekhyun in his arms and shush him softly, and they miss class this way.

 

When exhaustion pulls Baekhyun into a deep sleep, Chanyeol loses himself completely.

 

How afraid he must have been, Chanyeol thinks, rocking Baekhyun gently in his lap, to have called out for his hyung.

 

//

 

“Chanyeol-ah,” Baekhyun calls out one day. The tears in the sky are growing in number, their city is starting to melt.

 

Chanyeol hums. They are finishing homework together.

 

“I’m going to leave tomorrow,” Baekhyun mumbles.

 

Chanyeol perks up.

 

“Where to, Baekhyunnie?”

 

The other seems sad, sullen and unwilling to go where he’ll be going.

 

“Andromeda, Chanyeol.”

 

Chanyeol laughs big and loud, dismisses Baekhyun’s joke and returns to his homework. Baekhyun does not say much after that.

 

Chanyeol does not expect Baekhyun to leave, because he is gone to Chanyeol for the next three days, and the next three days are ones of terror for Chanyeol.

 

Chanyeol cries like he's never cried before. Frankly, it renders him void and hollow, emotionless save for the grief and sorrow that remain unequalled in their grandeur. He remembers the ache, the raging chaoticity that his weak heart cannot not bear even for a single second. He sets his room on fire.

 

He sets his blanket ablaze in the dark of night, when his mother and sister had long fallen asleep and it was okay to cry a little louder. His initial reaction is to scream, to kick and thrash until the flame disappears. But Chanyeol does nothing at all. He stares wide-eyed in shock, eyes red and puffy behind wet hands, and lets out an ugly sob. He does not question the fire, how it started, how to make it stop. Fourteen-year-old Chanyeol - sad, heartbroken Chanyeol - doesn’t care any less. He would let it burn him alive, if it meant that the aching would stop.

 

The universe is not in Chanyeol’s favour that night. Chanyeol’s mother comes rushing in, coughing and shrieking in the thick, stinging smoke.

 

“Chanyeol!”

 

Chanyeol cannot answer.

 

“Chanyeol, baby please!”

 

He cannot even stay awake.

 

//

 

Everything feels wrong without Baekhyun. At first, Chanyeol wallows in his hurt for days on end, but then there comes Sehun, like a knight in shining armour.

 

“Wanna hang after school?” the boy asks Chanyeol after they’re done practicing soccer.

 

Chanyeol feels his stomach flip.

 

“Sure.”

 

And Sehun remains with him for endless summers, remains with him when the skies erupt majestically above their heads one night and Tel Aviv - their galaxy - is officially considered endangered. They cannot run, cannot leave like the others around them. Sehun and Chanyeol do not have the wealth to even try to do so. 

 

They are older, with years to their height and years to their build, when the authorities announce a mass evacuation of all remaining people. There are many remaining people. Chanyeol takes a few treasured belongings, a book about The Milky Way, a photo of his family, a special gift from Sehun. 

 

He loses all of it later, when he's boarding the ship. 

 

"Sehun!" 

 

The boy is stuck, wedged between the thousands of people rushing to get onto the ship, pouring over the barricade the guards have made with their arms. The heat from above them is unforgiving, scorching and melting. They would melt if they didn't get into the safety of the ship before them. 

 

"Sehun!"

 

Chanyeol is hurled into the spacecraft, vision blurry from the tears welling there in fear of his friend falling behind, melting under the sky. 

 

"I'll get on, Chanyeol," the boy screams through cupped hands. The skin of his face is tight and pink, like a burn is already alive there. 

 

"Hurry Chanyeol! I'll be right behind you, don't worry!"

 

Sehun does not follow. Neither does his Mother, or his sister. 

 

But everyone has made it onto the ship, the guard says. 

 

They've been separated, then. Lost, among an entire nation's worth of people. There must be  _millions_ on the ship. 

 

**Many Years Later,**

 

It feels strange, so _alien_ to be familiar with his home one moment and the next, he is not. Chanyeol wakes from his slumber light-headed and _warm_. The light flashing around him is a dim blue, pale and cold, clinical. It blinks once, twice, a soundless signal of engagement, of life. The blue repeats this way for a long while - blink, pause, blink, pause, blink. It is soothing, Chanyeol thinks. He almost falls back asleep. He rises from the steaming water cautiously, legs numb, arms weak, and his body gives in almost immediately, unaccustomed to standing or stretching. His muscles feel as though they are not there - bones, no flesh. Even the grip of his fingers on the metal of the tank feels foreign - as if he has never used his own hands before, newborn, embryonic. He lifts them slowly towards his face, touches the pads of his digits to the moist skin pulled tight over his bones. He pokes and prods, digs his blunt nails into the flesh of his cheeks. He feels himself, trails his palm down his neck, over the plane of his chest, softly over his limp cock, his knees, his toes. Everything feels new, unfamiliar - Chanyeol cannot remember the last time he had known himself.  

 

The water in his tank remains warm for as long as Chanyeol sits there. It laps at his hips lazily, the skin below remains submerged. He wills his lungs back into business, coaxes his weary eyes back into seeing, watching, observing. There are many others, hundreds, thousands maybe; sleep tanks. They  line the large metal room neatly, flash blue light slowly - blink, pause, pause, blink. In the distance, way over to his left, Chanyeol can see a door, smaller than his thumb, shut tight with a dull white light surrounding it. Above him somewhere, slotted into the high ceiling, is a faint beeping, a constant sound - small, unchanging. Everything feels very scientific, very clean and orderly and lonely despite being surrounded by so many others.

 

 _Like a-_  

 

Like a what?

 

Chanyeol cannot remember the word. His mind feels fat, lazy.

 

 _Hospital,_ a voice whispers into his ear.

 

Like a hospital, Chanyeol decides. He has visited too many times to forget.

 

Chanyeol does not fear when the panel of glass beside his head shows darkness. For miles and miles across, he can see nothing but black and tiny pin pricks of light. Most people would have panicked, wondered where they were, what was happening, what was going on. It would be a natural response - a human response. Chanyeol feels none of those things. Instead he had takes a deep breath, fills his chest with an emptiness and desolation that coats his lungs thick.

 

Why does he feel this way - unbothered, unmoved?

 

Chanyeol does not wonder about his Mother or Yura or Sehun or Baekhyun. Why doesn’t he care? There is something about the enormity of it all, the seamlessness and vastness of the black around him, that forces Chanyeol to stop feeling, to stop thinking. He has been shut down. It seems as though the further he hurtles through space, limitless with its borders, the more he cannot feel - he is growing small, infinitesimal, disappearing.

 

//

 

The guard who tends to Chanyeol is kind and gentle. He asks for Chanyeol’s name first before anything else.

 

“You must feel a bit drowsy, Chanyeol” the man says softly. “Here, take these.”

 

Chanyeol is cautious at first. The guard before him is not what he had expected, all warm eyes and patient.

 

The man helps him to warm water and some tablets - he lifts the cup to Chanyeol’s lips and tilts his head with a hand on his chin.

 

“Thank you,” Chanyeol whispers, eyes lowered to his lap.

 

The guard offers a small smile.

 

“My name is Yixing.”

 

(Chanyeol would remember Yixing for days and days.)

 

“I’m a guard on board this spacecraft,” Yixing continues. “You woke up from your session, but you’ll have to go back to sleep soon.”

 

Chanyeol listens attentively.

 

“Chanyeol,” Yixing starts with something akin to unease. He shifts where he’s sat crouched beside Chanyeol’s tank. “I don’t know if you remember, but when you left Earth you were leaving for good.”

 

A pause, a silence to let the universe breathe.

 

“We’ve found another home.”

 

Chanyeol does not want to be reminded again. He had learned of this when they were evacuating. He was eighteen then.

 

“What year is it?” He asks. A part of him does not want to know.

 

“3132.”

 

 _Six years._ It had been six years since Chanyeol had left home.

 

_Six years of sleep._

 

Yixing’s cool voice breaks his haze.

 

“You’ll need to sleep for another twenty-seven years, Chanyeol. We’re headed for a different galaxy.”

 

The emptiness in Chanyeol’s chest howls then, at the finality in Yixing’s words.

 

Chanyeol looks up at the guard, wide eyes flickering over the man’s serene face.

 

“Yixing?” Chanyeol’s voice wavers like the air rippling around him.

 

“Yes?”

 

“What about you? Will you sleep too?”

 

“No, I will not. I’ll be looking after my nation’s people while they transit to their new home,” there is an uncertainty to his voice, unwanting.

 

“It is my duty.”

 

Chanyeol can see the flicker of melancholy in Yixing’s face. He does not want to be dutiful to his nation. Yixing wants to sleep, to be young when they arrived at their new home. He would age twenty-seven years while everyone else before him slept.

 

Maybe it was more - more than twenty-seven.

 

The shifts in space time will surely alter the true value behind the ticking of the clock. Days could turn into weeks and weeks into days. Twenty-seven years could translate to an entire lifetime. There is no knowing if Yixing will live to see his new home.

 

“Is it just you?” Chanyeol whispers.

 

A sad smile graces Yixing’s lips.

 

“There are many others.”

 

 _So he is not alone_ , Chanyeol thinks.

 

Chanyeol does not know if he wants to ask where Sehun is. He is afraid the answer will make him ache. His chest could collapse into itself. He stirs the warm water between his legs, breathes slowly, readies his heart for the possibility of denial.

 

“Yixing?”

 

“Yes, Chanyeol?” Yixing is sitting next to his tank now, legs tucked away beneath himself, an arm draped over the edge of Chanyeol’s bed.

 

“Have you -”

 

Chanyeol’s throat is beginning to close.

 

“Has a boy named Oh Sehun woken yet?” Chanyeol feels his heart hammer against his bones.

 

The sound of Sehun’s name on Chanyeol’s tongue brings a wave of emotions crashing forth. It feels like he’s calling out for home, as if Chanyeol is waiting for the other boy to appear suddenly.

 

Yixing considers Chanyeol silently then, soft eyes trailing over the boy’s face.

 

“I cannot remember, Chanyeol,” he says. His voice drips with a sort of sorrow. Chanyeol knows he has done this more than once. He is a guard for Korea, an entire nation. Surely he has needed to tell more than one person their friend or mother or lover has not woken. “I’m not sure where he sleeps, there are millions of people on this ship.”

 

Chanyeol breaks a little then, for Yixing moves his hand to Chanyeol’s forehead and cards his fingers through his hair -  an act of comfort, reassurance.

 

“You need not worry, Chanyeol-ah,” Yixing breathes.

 

Why is Yixing so kind, so caring and gentle and loving? Chanyeol’s aching grows tenfold at this thought, the thought of being cared for in the middle of a world he does not know among people he cannot see. Yixing’s fingers are very soothing. They wipe away the hair that has fallen over Chanyeol’s eyes.

 

“You will find him again, your Sehun.”

 

“You will find everyone you have lost. When we arrive, you will find them. When you mourn, you will find them. They will be with you always, Chanyeol-ah. You must keep them with you always.”

 

Chanyeol starts to cry while Yixing speaks. He lets the tears stream down his face and his shoulders shake softly. The skin of his cheeks starts to burn, a familiar sizzling that scorches Chanyeol inside out.

 

“And if they become lost to you forever, you should not be sad forever. This is your new home, a chance for a new life. If you cannot find your Sehun, search for another one.”

 

Yixing wipes Chanyeol’s tears away with gentle fingers. If he feels the heat, he does not address it.

 

“If he wakes, Chanyeol,” Yixing whispers, “I will let him know you are safe.”

 

For the first time since he has woken, Chanyeol feels longing and sadness and heartache. A loud sob heaves through his chest and spills over his lips. He does not know if he can feign it all, the emotions gushing out. Were it not for Yixing - lovely, patient Yixing - Chanyeol would have set himself ablaze.

 

“And I will let him know where he can find you.”

 

Chanyeol is grateful to have been tended by Yixing. It could have been someone else, a guard less nurturing, less warm. Yixing is so caring, like a mother loving her small child. Chanyeol has never known Yixing before this moment - they were strangers to each other. But he never once felt as if he were in danger, had never felt the need to be afraid. Yixing has a way about him that soothes Chanyeol’s numbness, as if he were healing Chanyeol into feeling again.

 

Yixing - sweet, sweet Yixing.

 

Yixing, whose little smile and shining eyes and gentle voice wraps Chanyeol tight in security.

 

He is a nurturer, a protector, the best guard of Korea.

 

Chanyeol would always wish to meet Yixing again. Later, when he would grow afraid of deep space and the memory of Yixing was most vivid, Chanyeol would long for him.

 

He looks up into Yixing’s eyes and thanks him endlessly, a string of incoherent gratitude colouring Chanyeol’s warm face red.

 

“You’ve been very good to me, hyung.” Chanyeol does not want to cry again.

 

Yixing smiles a dazzling smile, dimples carved deep into his cheeks and eyes crinkled closed.

 

“When I next wake,” Chanyeol speaks, voice a whisper of hope, “Will I see you again?”

 

He is lying down now, the water in the tank recycled and renewed. It is cool against his skin.

 

Yixing stops pressing the buttons above Chanyeol’s head and looks down where he lies.

 

“It should not matter if you will see me again, Chanyeol.”

 

Sleep crawls over Chanyeol’s body like a warm blanket on a cool night.

 

“You should keep me with you, if that’s what you would like.”

 

//

 

Chanyeol is still eighteen the next time he wakes. Yixing does not greet him this time. Somebody else does.

 

“Up,” a stern voice commands. Chanyeol is still lying in his tank, the water around him draining away slowly, leaving his skin bare. There’s a cold hand on his shoulder, grip vice-like and painful. It’s a guard, a big guard, arms large, chest broad, face chiselled and mean. A long, black gun sits slung over his shoulder.

 

Chanyeol can feel himself heating up instantly, his body is getting ready to burn.

 

“Where are you taking me?” he tries as the guard hauls him out of the tank, but his voice comes out a hoarse whisper, throat dry and thirsty. His legs cannot support his weight. They wobble at the knees and struggle to keep upright.

 

The guard lets out a low grunt. He tightens his grip on Chanyeol’s arm and starts to drag him across the floor. Chanyeol is very naked and very warm. The alarm rippling under his skin is quick to heat up the blood coursing through his veins. He could become dangerous soon.

 

Chanyeol struggles against the guard’s body. He is weak, sleeping has rendered him frail.

 

“Let go of me,” he tries again. He didn’t expect to wake up to fear. He can still feel the lovely pressure of Yixing’s fingers through his wet hair. How long ago had that been? Ten years, two years? Maybe Chanyeol has slept through all twenty-seven.

 

He is frightened of the change.

 

“Please, please,” Chanyeol pleads. He can feel himself start to drain. He is so tired, his body is so warm. There is no Yixing with tablets and nice words.

 

There should be no reason for Chanyeol to panic in such a way. Perhaps this guard was helping him to a more decent place, some clothes, some food maybe. But something unsettling unravels in the pit of Chanyeol’s stomach when he spots the car, windows tinted deep black, frame sleek and smooth.

 

He’s pushed inside with mighty force, so much so that the handle of the door meets his head with a loud thud. The engines roar to life, shaking the car in a silent hum that runs through Chanyeol’s bones, and the blast of cold air from the ceiling, the floor, the sides, is all too much for Chanyeol’s wet skin.

 

He sits silently as the car passes by rows and rows of tanks, knees drawn closed to save his dignity. The pain in his head is throbbing, and Chanyeol feels the gentle caress of slumber on his cheeks and over his eyes. She is tempting, promising of serenity and non-existence, but Chanyeol would be damned if he is to sleep another second. He fights the urge to pas out.

 

This would be the first time Chanyeol sees his surroundings properly. This room, his place of eternal sleep, is vast, endless and ongoing, with ceilings reaching high and walls creating a horizon of their own. The windows, Chanyeol realises, are so much bigger than he had first thought them to be. They span from floor to ceiling, tall, tall, tall, like an entire skyscraper could not even level their height. There’s two, one right beside him, and the other far behind, both seamlessly joining into one another. And the space outside seems to be flooding in, Chanyeol completely immersed in the stars and the dark spots that draw him in mercilessly.

 

Here he is again, feeling small, infinitesimal. There are as many tanks as there are specks of light outside the ship, and Chanyeol tries to believe that his eyes aren’t frantic and restless because they are searching, but because he is shocked. Sleeping has rendered him frail.

 

He passes out soon after, doesn’t get to search the guards at the gates for a certain face, sweet and caring... and disappearing, it would seem.

 

Chanyeol wakes to breathlessness - it has been almost an entire lifetime of loneliness and sleep and for the first time in a very long time, Chanyeol can see people, breathing and speaking and laughing and crying. There aren’t many of them, just a few huddled here and there on the cold, cement floor that he lies on, but there are enough to make Chanyeol stop breathing entirely. The shock is reverberating.

 

Chanyeol hasn’t seen this many people together since the evacuation.

 

He shuffles to sit against the wall, still naked and now very much aware of all the eyes on him, boring through his skin.

 

“Jesus,” someone breathes. It’s a young boy, around the same age as Chanyeol, sitting with his hands holding his knees away from the floor. “Thought you were dead.”

 

Everything is warm for some time. The heat trickling down his legs is comforting, a reminder of Chanyeol’s human attributes.

 

The shame comes after, when a little girl expresses her disgust by pressing her fingers to her nose. Chanyeol has never felt so embarrassed in his entire life.

 

Another guard comes stomping into the room. He carries what looks like clothes. Chanyeol hopes they are for him.

 

“Leave him alone,” the guard says, voice sharp and in no way sympathetic of Chanyeol’s hurt.

 

He throws the pile of clothes into Chanyeol’s lap where he is still spurting piss over his legs. Chanyeol hurries to move the clothes before they soak the stench, but to no avail.

 

“Clean up this mess.”

 

This moment is important to Chanyeol. He realises how alone he is, and how cold it feels to be that way.

 

//

 

Baekhyun visits Chanyeol that night, when he is resting in a silent chamber. He had been ready to wait for the sun to rise, but there is no Sun where the ship is travelling.

 

Baekhyun is so lovely. He resembles the last memories Chanyeol has of him, which means that Baekhyun remains fourteen to Chanyeol whenever they meet.

 

“Hello, Chanyeol-ah,” he whispers. He stands next to Chanyeol’s bed, places a soft hand on his cheek.

 

Chanyeol offers a small smile. Things are beginning to fade.

 

“Baekhyun,” he whispers.

 

The taste of Baekhyun’s name is growing strange to Chanyeol.

 

“What are you doing, Yeol-ah?” The boy speaks softly. He peers at Chanyeol with warmth in his eyes, shy of the older’s gaze. Always so sweet, his Baekhyun. Chanyeol would never forgive himself if he forgot his darling.

 

“Travelling,” Chanyeol whispers. He does not use his voice, does not trust it to keep secret his sorrow.

 

Baekhyun hums softly then, lips pressed together and eyes crinkled closed - a blissful smile.

 

“I wish I could come with you, Yeol-ah,” the boy confesses. He blushes a pretty pink.

 

Chanyeol urges the aching in his throat to go away and the longing in his chest to quieten.

 

Baekhyun has been lost to Chanyeol for too many years.

 

Things are beginning to fade.

 

“Where can I find you, Baekhyun?” Chanyeol tries. The boy shifts his gaze to his shoes, and Chanyeol tries again, hands holding the other’s small face.

 

“Where did you go, baby?”

 

There is an explosion somewhere in the universe; a star collapses, a galaxy falls. Chanyeol feels its tremors course through his bones. He glances out the window, searches for a shattering in the blanket of darkness about him.

 

Baekhyun is not in his arms when he looks back.

 

//

 

Kim Jongin is a handsome face. Chanyeol sees him on the way to the bathroom once, a guard latched to his arm like a leech on a hot, humid day. He has his head bowed while walking, and when Chanyeol draws near he looks up.

 

“Hello,” he greets, voice smooth like honey.

 

Chanyeol is breathless at the beauty of the passing boy. He rasps out a small “Hi”, and Jongin smiles so wide his eyes disappear. Chanyeol turns back around when the guard pushes him forward, cheeks growing warm, Jongin’s sweet laugh good and loud for him to hear.

 

It’s a strange feeling, the fluttering of Chanyeol’s heart in his chest.

 

It translates to a longing, blooming inside of him fast, as if Jongin were the memory of warm summer days and ice cream and laughter.

 

 _Why does he seem familiar?_ Chanyeol wonders.

 

It’s as if the threads inside of him have been weaved to respond this way, like muscle memory when smiling at a friend who’s been away for too long.

 

Later that night, Chanyeol dreams of home again. He envisions a melting star bleeding pinks and purples into the sky. Somewhere by his side are his friends, many more than he had ever had at school, but they seem like they have known Chanyeol forever. He can see Sehun, tall and radiant, running toward him with his arms wide and his blonde hair flying about him. And he can see Baekhyun, playing by the water with his shorts soaking wet and sand trailing up his thighs.

 

 _This must be a beach_ , Chanyeol thinks, intoxicated by the sweetness of his dream. They are about to explode, Chanyeol can feel this. It’s a most overwhelming sensation in his bones, cool and tingling, like the waves crashing on the shore are really crashing inside of them, making them great and thunderous. When he wakes, there is nothing to do but cry.

 

Chanyeol could scream, the frustration tangled in his chest is sickening. Every sleep brings visions like this, memories and moments of home.

 

It’s a shame they’re ripped away so soon after conception. It would seem as though the universe is adamant on destroying Chanyeol’s memory. Sooner or later, even the remnants - the lingering emotions, the blurry nostalgia - will become lost to Chanyeol.

 

//

 

“Take a seat.”

 

It has been twenty-three days since Chanyeol has woken. Today, he stands in a room that isn’t his chamber or the bathroom. Instead, it is large and airy, with stark white walls and hard, white furniture. He is tentative to sit.

 

The woman before him introduces herself as “Nurse Four-Three” like ‘Nurse 43’.

 

“Today, we’ll be taking a blood test,” she tells him, fiddling around with her gloves and tubes.

 

Chanyeol nods an affirmation.

 

“You’ll need to roll up your sleeve.”

 

She takes a lot of blood, two tube-fulls, and Chanyeol is suddenly curious as to what she’ll need it for.

 

“What do you need it for?”

 

The nurse moves to clean his arm before replying with a heavy sigh. She presses hard into Chanyeol’s skin.

 

“To check whether you’re sick, or not,” she says with a small smile, but it seems cold, lacking any real emotion. She misses the spot where blood dribbles out of the puncture, and Chanyeol bleeds through his grey uniform.

 

“Nurse is a bitch, isn’t she?” Jongin asks later, when they’re sat beside each other in the cold waiting room.

 

Chanyeol is surprised, again, by the boy. Pleasantly so, like he was waiting for the other to speak up the entire time. He was.

 

Chanyeol nods, eyes dancing over Jongin’s sleepy face before settling on his chest.

 

“You’re not one to talk, are you?” Jongin’s voice is soft, and he dips his head a little to meet Chanyeol’s eyes.

 

Chanyeol offers a shrug. He does not know what to say to Jongin, especially with this tingling festering inside of him, so he averts his gaze to rest on the floor.

 

“You know why they’re taking our blood?” Jongin asks a little while later, head resting on the wall behind him and eyes trained on the ceiling.

 

Chanyeol clears his throat.

 

“They want to know if we’re sick?”

 

A heavy silence - the room around them starts to swell. And then Jongin lets out a short laugh, cold and bitter and nothing like the one from a few days ago.

 

“Yeah,” he breathes, “they do.”

 

He turns to Chanyeol, body twisted to face the taller and hands coming to grip the arm rest. And then he leans forward, breathe warm over Chanyeol’s neck.

 

“They’re getting rid of people, Chanyeol. Downsizing the population.”

 

Chanyeol does not hear it right the first time, or he does not believe it. He faces a look of confusion, and Jongin leans in again.

 

“If you’ve woken once before it’s usually due to a defect, something about you triggered your awakening. An illness, high body temperature - anything defying good health.”

 

Jongin leans back again and Chanyeol grabs his wrist. There is shock pulsing through his blood. Blood, hot blood. Surely the nurse will come back with results that report on Chanyeol’s heat, his fire.

 

They stare at each other for a while, Chanyeol’s eyes wide and afraid and Jongin’s void and blank.

 

_Why is he telling me this?_

 

“I- I’ve woken once before,” Chanyeol blurts out.

 

“You have?” Jongin asks, brows furrowed.

 

“Yes, but the guard put me back to sleep. This is my second time.”

 

Another silence, like the whole ship is waiting for Jongin’s reply.

 

“That’s strange,” he meddles, “you’re not allowed to go back to sleep once you’ve woken.”

 

Chanyeol’s heart lurches.

 

“Who was your guard?”

 

Yixing.

 

“I don’t remember,” Chanyeol lies, but more than ever he is curious. “Why does it matter?”

 

Jongin shakes his head.

 

“Just wondering. The tanks detect outliers and report them to guards, who are meant to “dispose” of you. They only want the best for our new home.”

 

Oh Yixing, so kind and caring. Perhaps Chanyeol would have died all those years ago, taken from his sleep to be slaughtered for his heat. They would not want alien blood in their new home. But Yixing. Why had he been like so, all gentle and loving? Chanyeol had been a pathetic boy, Sehun and Baekhyun and everyone, he had lost. How hurt he was then, when he first woke. And Yixing had let him back to sleep, as if there was reason for Chanyeol to start anew.

 

Back in his chamber, Chanyeol cannot help but imagine a life where he was dead, floating in a realm of non-existence. He would be with his beloved, his lovely Baekhyun.

 

 _He must have passed_ , Chanyeol lets himself think for the first time, as if to alleviate some pain, _surely_.

 

//

 

The next time Chanyeol sees Jongin is the first time he sobs until he falls asleep.

 

“Hey,” Jongin greets. They’re in the cafeteria. The crowd of people waiting for food grows a little bigger every day. “Sit next to me.”

 

Chanyeol slides into the seat beside Jongin, shuffling in closer when the other beckons him to. They sit shoulder to shoulder despite all the room around them, and Chanyeol is suddenly warm with the friendliness that oozes out of Jongin.

 

He digs into his bowl, shovelling down bland oatmeal to sate his hunger.

 

“How’s it been?” Jongin asks. He talks with food in his mouth, and Chanyeol lets himself smile a little.

 

“Okay, I guess,” he tells honestly. They saw each other only yesterday.

 

Jongin places his spoon down.

 

“I’m sorry if I scared you yesterday,” he apologises, face contorted into one of concern. He peers at Chanyeol with wide eyes. “It’s just... you left after I said what I said and you looked pretty pale.”

 

He pouts, studies Chanyeol’s face for a reaction.

 

“It’s okay,” Chanyeol speaks softly. This side of Jongin is new to him, this soft voice and puppy face. He had always seen him as fierce and bursting with a charming charisma, but this is nice.

 

Jongins smiles wide.

 

“Okay, good,” he whispers, following the level of Chanyeol’s voice.

 

Chanyeol returns to his food, head bowed to hide his growing smile. He enjoys Jongin’s company today (not to say he ever disliked it), entranced by the other’s welcoming aura. He would not mind them becoming friends, in fact he hopes they do. It would be nice to have someone to look forward to, at least before they’re sent off.

 

“Chanyeol,” Jongin pipes up.

 

Chanyeol hums, turns to look at the other boy staring at him.

 

“What do you say we leave this place,” he speaks into the little space between them.

 

Chanyeol takes a moment to let the words sink in.

 

“What?!”

 

There is nothing much else to say. Jongin must be mad, dreaming of leaving this ship. How would they do it, where would they go? The universe is dying.

 

“Shh,” Jongin is quick to calm Chanyeol’s small outburst. “Hear me out, please?”

 

“Okay.”

 

They sit with their heads leaning into each other’s space, and Jongin’s hair falls over his eyes.

 

“I know you’re like me,” he whispers, and Chanyeol furrows his brows, confused. “You know how to control something others could never dream of.”

 

It doesn’t take a single moment for Chanyeol to understand what the other is talking about, and suddenly there is no air to breathe.

 

 _Could it be?_ Chanyeol wonders, his mind is reeling. He can feel the food in his stomach rising back up.

 

“I have a power too, Chanyeol,” Jongin whispers. The cafeteria around them is silent, people speak but Chanyeol cannot hear them. Jongin’s voice is loud, echoing through his skull.

 

There’s a special thread of trust weaved into Chanyeol’s body, telling of Jongin’s honesty. “You do?”

 

The boy smiles.

 

“Yes,” he says, “I can move around differently, like manipulate space and time to teleport to places. It’s very helpful when you’re busting to pee.”

 

Chanyeol laughs, a soft chuckle spilling over his lips, and Jongin is quick to continue.

 

“You’re warm, always. I can feel it when you walk past me, especially when you sit next to me,” he says. Chanyeol listens.

 

“I can tell you’re different, maybe better than anyone else here ever could because we’re alike.”

 

Chanyeol holds his breath.

 

“Yeah,” he whispers, “I’m different, alright.”

 

Jongin leans closer, curiosity gushing out of his seams.

 

“My mum always used to tell me I was a demigod, birthed from Hephaestus,” Chanyeol tells him. “Of course I’m not, but it was her way of letting me learn about myself.”

 

He pauses, and Jongin remains silent, waiting.

 

“I can control fire, Jongin,” he confesses.

 

They end up in the bathrooms, squished into a single stall, Jongin breathing rapidly and locking the door in place.

 

“Show me.”

 

Chanyeol hesitates.

 

“But what ab-”

 

“Never mind the guards,” Jongin interrupts. He peers through the crack. “If they come, I’ll teleport us.”

 

It starts as a tingling, tiny pin pricks of heat under his skin that grow more intense the harder Chanyeol focuses. His palm is cupped the slightest, fingers curled, creating a mini shield to keep safe the tiny flame that flickers to life. Jongin laughs, breathy and joyous, and Chanyeol can see awe sparkling in his eyes.

 

“Chanyeol,” he breathes.

 

It has been a long while since Chanyeol has harnessed his power. Most of the time Chanyeol keeps it hidden, away from others’ eyes out of fear. But Jongin, he lets him see.

 

“Can I?” the other asks, gesturing to the heat nestled in Chanyeol’s hand. Chanyeol nods, smiling softly at Jongin when he caresses the flame. And he lets his fingers dance over Chanyeol’s palm, bringing the fire closer to his face as if to make certain its existence.

 

“Careful,” Chanyeol rushes, and Jongin moves his face away. “It’s still really hot.”

 

There’s a sudden flurry of movement outside their stall then; the door to the bathroom opens and a pair of feet shuffle in. Chanyeol closes his palm to kill the flame, eyes growing impossibly wide at the jolt of shock, but a corner of his sleeve catches ablaze, and Jongin cannot hold back the waves of laughter that wash over him.

 

“Jongin!” Chanyeol cries, waving his arm in the air. They are still locked in the stall, but Jongin is quick to let them out, and Chanyeol all but dives into the row of gleaming sinks to doze the fire. He soaks his sleeve thoroughly.

 

The sound of Jongin’s sweet laugh echoes around the bathroom, and Chanyeol is struck sick by the contagious bliss. He smiles wide, lets his chest rumble like it used to, with Sehun, and with Baekhyun.  

 

They hurry to Chanyeol’s cell later, when their stomachs recover from cramping and their cheeks no longer ache. Jongin reaches out his hand, waving it a little when Chanyeol doesn’t take it. He’s still soaking his sleeve under the water.

 

“You wanna get out of here or what?” he asks, smirking at the show to come.

 

Chanyeol steps forward, links his fingers with Jongin’s slender ones, and the air around them crackles and rips, and suddenly, they are someplace else.

 

“You-”

 

Chanyeol does not know what to say; they are standing safely in his own chamber when a moment ago, they were not.

 

“You really-”

 

Jongin laughs loud.

 

“Yes, I really did teleport us to your room,” he confirms, settling down on the hard bed.

 

Chanyeol cannot believe it.

 

“How did you know this was the room?” he asks, touching the desk beside him just to make sure it’s real.

 

Jongin laughs again, coats the walls with sticky goodness.

 

“I’ve seen you come in here before, once.” He pats the space beside him, gestures for Chanyeol to sit, and Chanyeol climbs onto the bed beside the boy. He folds his legs beneath himself, facing Jongin who waits.

 

“You’re so cool,” Chanyeol admires, and the other boy smacks his arm, shushes him quickly as if to dispute the fact.

 

Jongin smiles.

 

“See,” he begins, letting out a deep breath, “this is why we need to leave.”

 

Chanyeol drops the smile, the room grows deadly silent. There is an unsettling feeling lurking inside of him, at the thought of leaving the ship. Chanyeol is not sure if we could ever be ready for it.

 

“Because you’re cool?” he asks, tries to rid the tension coiled tight in his bones.

 

Jongin scoffs.

 

“Because we’re different,” he whispers with fervor. “You want out, Chanyeol? You think it won’t be too bad, they’ll kill you eventually and then you can stop caring about all this, right?”

 

Chanyeol does not meet Jongin’s gaze.

 

“The blood test will keep you alive.” Jongin’s voice grows deep, low like rumbling, almost like he’s speaking with a snarl. “They’ll thirst to know more about you, the alien in your veins.”

 

A heavy silence fills the room.

 

“How will they do it?” Jongin continues. He pauses, as if waiting for a reply, but Chanyeol is too afraid to speak, to face the truth.

 

“How will they learn about you, Chanyeol?” Jongin pushes. He seems angry, and Chanyeol can imagine him, brows furrowed, eyes dark. He does not risk the silence.

 

“They’ll torture me,” he whispers, eyes trained on his lap. He can feel the pulse under his skin thrum faster.

 

_They’ll hurt me._

 

Jongin shifts where he sits on the bed, stands tall beside Chanyeol.

 

“That’s right, Chanyeol,” he says, walking over to the small window. “You would not want that over death.”

 

It is in this light, the red glow of a giant star existing nearby, that Chanyeol realises Jongin’s determination. He would not be deterred by Chanyeol’s decisions.

 

“You seem reluctant,” the boy says, staring out into the endless space.

 

A pause.

 

“There must be something keeping you here.” He turns around to face Chanyeol, who stands now, beside the bed. They meet each other’s gaze, Chanyeol’s wet and hazy, Jongin’s cool. The air between them is different now.

 

“I’ll let you think about it.”

 

And then he is gone, just as quickly as they had both came.

 

 _How selfish,_ Chanyeol thinks, of the entities above him to create such a fate. He sinks down to the cold floor, slumping against the frame of the bed. How could he leave? Chanyeol has not found anyone yet. It has been a long while since he has woken, but he has not seen his mother or sister. And Sehun remains lost, still.

 

Chanyeol’s chest shatters.

 

_Maybe this is how it was always going to be._

 

The first sob heaves through him with great force, knocks the air out of him almost entirely. And the tears stream down his face. Chanyeol cries into his hands, lets the heat of his breathe burn the skin of his cheeks.

 

“How will I leave you?” he wails, voice quiet to keep secret from the guards. He thinks of the fun he will have have, inevitable when around Jongin. They would leave to a stranger place in the universe, cruise the ongoing space unburdened and free.

 

But how burdened Chanyeol would be.

 

He would have left his mother, his sister, his best friend.

 

“Sehun-ah” Chanyeol whimpers, hands holding his chest. And this is how he drifts to sleep, reminiscing the memories of home - the warm nights with his mother, the shopping trips with his sister, the endless summers with Sehun.

 

But he had never had Baekhyun like he always wanted him, and that ugly pain still festers when Chanyeol sleeps, restless, sickening.

 

//

 

It’s a strange sight, Chanyeol in the mirror. He hasn’t seen himself properly in so long, just caught glimpses of himself in the back of the spoons in the cafeteria, face stretched and upside-down. But there is a mirror here, in this small room that Chanyeol waits inside, and he is captivated by the monstrosity that is his face.

 

There is no fat on Chanyeol’s cheeks, like there has always been. Instead, they are caved in, hollowing and gathering shadows that make him seem a creature of bones. And Chanyeol’s lips. They are colourless and chapped, and rough under his fingers when he squeezes the flesh. He steps forward, closes the distance between his face and the one in the mirror. Now he can see the finer details, like the pimples on his forehead and the dry skin of his jaw.

 

But then there is a soft knocking on the door - three slow taps - and Chanyeol moves away from his reflection to let them in.

 

“Hi,” he breathes, moving to let Jongin through.

 

Jongin doesn’t say anything back. He leans against the wall, arms crossed. Chanyeol senses an air of impatience.

 

“I’ve made up my mind,” he starts, and this gets the other’s attention. But Chanyeol cannot bring himself to say the words. He does not want to leave this ship.

 

“Well go on,” Jongin spurs.

 

“I-”

 

Jongin seems like nice company, Chanyeol would not mind travelling with him at all.

 

“I’ll leave with you.”

 

Even if it makes him a coward, a bad friend, for leaving everyone behind.

 

Jongin smirks wide, an expression Chanyeol is already growing familiar to. He steps forward, grasps Chanyeol’s shoulder in acknowledgement of his decision.

 

“We leave tonight,” Jongin says, and his voice is deep, dangerous, like all the worlds’ mysteries are hidden in the low rumble.

 

“Meet me here again, in ten hours.”

 

And then he slips out, quiet and unnoticed, and Chanyeol is left to count down the seconds to his departure. He will part ways with all he has ever had. Perhaps the weight in his chest is indicative of the pain; the pangs slice deep in his chest but strangely, do not wound his heart.

 

//

 

“You’re so annoying, hyung.”

 

Sehun cannot breathe under the weight of Chanyeol on top of him. The taller lies sprawled over him, staring at the stars above them shining bright in the early morning. Chanyeol’s galaxy is wonderous, breathtakingly beautiful every moment of every day. The nights are just as splendid as the days, and Chanyeol cherishes this always.  

 

“Hyung!”

 

“Okay, okay, I’m moving.” Chanyeol rolls over to lie beside Sehun on the prickly grass. There is sweat pooling in the hollow of his neck and sliding down his temples. The days grow impossibly warmer here; they say the rips in the space around them give off scorching light. And how many there are in this one sky, this one corner of the cosmos. From where they lie, Chanyeol and Sehun can see many, more than you can count on your fingers for sure.

 

“This place sucks,” Sehun grumbles. Chanyeol turns to see the other’s hair matted to his forehead. Even his thin shirt clings to him like a second skin. “We’ll melt here, you know that?”

 

Chanyeol laughs, teeth all on display. Sehun isn’t wrong; they truly could melt here if they stayed long enough. But Chanyeol knows they’ll leave, has a feeling something will take them far away. He has his eyes on a ship, big and mighty, birthed for intergalactic travel. Surely it’ll send them to places they could never imagine, like the Milky Way, maybe, or El Dorado. Sehun would be livid.

 

But the chances of stealing one are low. Chanyeol is mad for even considering it.

 

“You just want an ice-treat, don’t you?” he teases, poking the side of Sehun’s belly, and the creases between the other’s brows disappear almost instantly.

 

_Typical Sehun._

 

He kicks the other’s leg, tells Sehun to wipe the shit eating grin off his face otherwise there’ll be trouble.

 

“But hyung,” Sehun whines, annoying and high-pitched. He latches onto Chanyeol’s arm in the unforgiving heat. “You love meee.”

 

Chanyeol cannot stand Sehun’s little schemes, and yet he always succumbs to them, eventually.

 

“Fine,” he sighs, “what flavour do you want?”

 

Sehun squeals with joy, stops on the sidewalk to dance a happy dance, and Chanyeol is spilling loud laughter all over the pavement, joyous and content.

 

//

 

There isn’t much to pack. Chanyeol places his toothbrush and toothpaste into the folds of a spare set of the uniform clothes everyone is administered once they wake. He looks around the room one last time, as if to check for anything he’ll leave behind, but all there is is what he first walked in to find.

 

He places his clothes snug under his armpit, and walks out the door with a deep breathe rushing out of his lungs. The guard beside him grunts.

 

“You have thirty minutes to clean up,” she speaks. Chanyeol nods meekly, heart beating fast at her cold gaze, and shuffles away quickly towards the showers.

 

Jongin is already there when Chanyeol gets to the room. He slips away from the guards silently, takes a swift turn at a sudden corner and no one notices him doing so. This part of the ship is deserted, mostly.

 

“You’re late,” Jongin says as soon as he opens the door for Chanyeol. He does not give the taller boy a chance to apologize, and Chanyeol is pulled into the little room a stuttering mess.

 

“Sor-”

 

Jongin shushes him.

 

“It’s fine,” he says, waving a hand in the air. He rummages through a bag on the floor, pulls out a white helmet just like the ones the guards wear.

 

“Here, put these on.”

 

A pair of white military pants, a sturdy matching shirt and vest.

 

“How did you get all of this?” Chanyeol asks, holding the pile of gear in his hands. Jongin is full of surprises.

 

“I have my ways,” the other replies, grinning slyly. Then he takes the hem of his shirt in his hands and pulls it over his head, and Chanyeol can see Jongin bare-chested right before his eyes. He turns around so fast the room spins with him, a deep blush settling on his cheeks. Chanyeol does not feel for Jongin, but the mere sight of skin, of toned abs and golden melanin, makes Chanyeol warm. He changes quickly, conscious of Jongin’s stare, only turning back around after much time spent fiddling with his buttons and zips. Jongin is busy taking more things out of his bag.

 

“How exactly are we  going to-” Chanyeol pauses to catch a pair of ear pieces, “- leave this place?”

 

“We’re going to steal a ranger.” Jongin does not look up to see Chanyeol’s eyes almost fall out of his head.

 

“Don’t sweat it,” he assures, calm and cool, “I’ve got a plan.”

 

Chanyeol moves to sit beside Jongin on the floor. He trails his fingers over a black gun, long and sleek.

 

“And it’ll work?” he asks, peering at Jongin through his lashes.

 

Jongin scoffs, like he does when things are about to play out in his favour. He exudes an overwhelming aura of confidence, and Chanyeol is soothed by it.

 

“Of course it’ll work,” he whispers, staring right back at Chanyeol. There is a fire in the other’s eyes, dark and brooding. Chanyeol weighs the possibilities.

 

“But if it doesn’t?” he says quietly. “If we’re caught? What then?”

 

Chanyeol cannot imagine the suffering to follow. They would be questioned, surely they would. And tortured to spill their motives, why they were leaving, where they were planning to go. Or perhaps they would be killed immediately, taken to separate rooms to be disposed of quietly. Commotion would not be ideal for a spacecraft transporting an entire nation’s population.

 

Jongin slings a gun over his shoulders, just like the guards carry their own.

 

“I’m telling you,” he pushes with heat, “It. Will. Work.” He stands up then, walking over to the mirror on the wall. The light above it is a bright white, and Jongin looks a specimen of intrigue, white clothes, grey hair now white. He draws a circle in the centre, a big one, with a marker Chanyeol is sure he stole from a passing guard. And then he draws several smaller circles attached around the bigger one.

 

“This,” Jongin says, pointing to a section at the bottom of his diagram, “is where we are.” Chanyeol nods in understanding, supposes they are dwelling towards the rear of the ship from Jongin’s explanation.

 

“And this,” he continues, moving his finger to a smaller circle not too far away, “is where the docking station is. We need to get there and get out in exactly two hours. This is the only time the guards are on break, so less on-ground duty for them and more of a chance not to fuck up for us.”

 

Chanyeol nods again, swallows down the bile rising in his throat. This is really happening.

 

“You ready for the tricky stuff?” Jongin asks.

 

Chanyeol should say no, should black out for a few hours and let his little Baekhyun visit him, comfort him.  

 

“Yeah,” he lies instead. “Run me through it.”

 

//

 

They make it to the ranger undetected. Well, not entirely, no. Jongin has to knock out a guard here or there, but mostly everything goes to plan. Chanyeol almost falls off the ship out of glee, pleasantly surprised at their successful endeavour. He misses the small space between the steps leading up to the launching dock, lets out a strangled scream, and Jongin has to hold a hand over Chanyeol’s mouth while pulling him up to safety. The space underneath them is unending.  

 

“Thanks,” he mutters to Jongin, ears red from embarrassment.

 

Jongin smiles.

 

“No worries, clumsy.”

 

Jongin circles the ranger slowly, searches for a way in, and Chanyeol cannot help but look behind himself, as if expecting someone to be there. But not expecting a guard, no.

 

They enter the spacecraft through a tiny hatch, so small Chanyeol has to squeeze himself through, and then they’re inside, Jongin eager to set sail. There is no gate to hinder them from flying out, just a wide opening in the side of the ship that allows for easy landing and takeoff. It would not take even a minute to leave this place, and this thought is daunting to Chanyeol.

 

He follows Jongin into the piloting area, where the entire front of the ranger is encased in glass. Everything about them is _right there_. The stars, the black, the passing debris of broken asteroids - everything is so close. Chanyeol feels his stomach float inside of him, as if they were already out there, in the feathery cushion of space where the absence of gravity is so apparent.

 

Chanyeol would appreciate something greater than gravity right now. Something to keep him firm on the ground, inside this ship where his family still are.

 

Do you know? The feeling of taking off?

 

Chanyeol does not welcome it well. He panics when the engines roar to life. They shake the floor and the walls and the ceiling, and Chanyeol can feel it in his bones and in his chest where his heart stammers unforgivingly. He does not want to leave everyone behind.

 

He glances out the window, to his left, to his right, searching like he did all those days ago when he first woke. But not for a guard, no. He thinks he can see Sehun, standing off to the side, unmoving and unphased. He seems sad, and Chanyeol blinks, checks again to test his sight. Sehun is gone.

 

Jongin flicks a switch, and the control panel lights up the dimming room spectacularly. They are both a mixture of bright hues, of lights melting into one another and into their skin.

 

“Seatbelts secure?” Jongin checks, and Chanyeol cannot say anything. The harness hugs him tight to his chair.

 

“Alright, let’s do this.”

 

Do you know? The feeling of taking off?

 

Chanyeol leaves everyone behind. He doesn’t feel anything but the weight in his chest that crushes his entire soul.

 

//

 

They set course for Andromeda, which lies not far from their ship. Nearby is the Milky Way, home to planet Earth, Chanyeol’s favourite planet. Baekhyun would often say he knew what Earth looked like, but how could he have, when he was birthed from the same star in Chanyeol’s dying galaxy? Chanyeol would always believe him anyway. They fly by it later, when they’re hurtling through the cosmos, and Chanyeol is mesmerized by the oceans of water that surround a single large, brown patch. A continent, it’s called. Apparently. Chanyeol does not know much. He does not see the Humans Baekhyun always described, living together in tall, tall buildings in grimy, neon cities. Perhaps they are too far away to catch a proper glimpse.

 

“Why Andromeda?” Chanyeol asks as Jongin punches coordinates into a transparent screen.

 

He turns it to show Chanyeol the beautiful galaxy, still intact, untouched by the wrath of the splitting skies. The screen zooms, closer and closer until a tiny spec, like dust, becomes blatantly apparent. It glows red.

 

“Heat signals,” Jongin says. “A colony, maybe.”

 

Chanyeol hopes so.

 

With Jongin’s clever calculations, it takes a little more than a week for their ship to reach the very outskirts of Andromeda. Chanyeol tries not to cry when he lies down to sleep as their ship continues to travel. It’s as if all the fun he has with Jongin disappears the moment Chanyeol thinks about the mistake he’s made leaving his mother and sister and Sehun.He does not know if he regrets it more than he is grateful for his own life. But what purpose does he hold, in starting again? Yoora was thriving with her job, his mother the happiest with her little shop. And Sehun. Chanyeol always knew he would amount to something great, with his quick wit and smart head and his undying love to learn about other homes, to explore other cities. Chanyeol must be drained, must be so empty. He never was much to begin with.

 

When he is alone like this, facing the cold wall of the ranger, keeping his breaths steady and calm, he likes to think of Baekhyun, his sweet angel. Baekhyun kissing his eyes closed, Baekhyun holding him tight. All the little things he wanted more than ever, when he loved his first best friend. He isn’t sure if he still loves him.

 

Does it count, if you feel for a ghost?

 

Chanyeol supposes it does. He lets himself believe so.

 

One day, Jongin taps his shoulder to tell him they can finally stop flying. Chanyeol rushes out of bed to look out the window, entranced at once by the giant city before him. There are floating slabs of concrete, it seems, holding many buildings that rest openly among the endless space. They land on a crowded dock, popular to vehicles thirsting for fuel. There’s a large building to their right, not very tall but very wide and made almost entirely of glass. Chanyeol can see litres and litres of black, gooey liquid sloshing around inside.

 

Jongin fills their tank quickly, pays for it by slotting something into one of the thousands of machines that stand upright, pumping out fuel. Chanyeol watches from a little afar, sitting on a random chair under the swirling cosmos. He wonders where Jongin got the money from.

 

The creatures around them are interesting, to say the least. Chanyeol is in awe by a beautiful girl, skin shimmering magenta and body thin and tall. She walks with a sway to her hips, and the hair that falls to her waist flows around her. And to his right are a group of cyborgs, big and metallic, whirring and zapping and conversing in deep, robotic voices. Chanyeol watches them mend their spacecraft.

 

Jongin joins him soon after. He holds a paper bag in front of Chanyeol’s face.

 

“Eat.”

 

Chanyeol does not waste a moment in opening the packet. He scoops out the cool, thick liquid inside, chews on it with a contented sigh as his stomach is finally sated. There wasn’t a lot of food on the ranger to begin with.

 

“What is this?” he asks, mouth full and words muffled. Jongin shrugs.

 

They venture the city afterwards, fly around in the ranger and see what there is to see. The place seems to be thriving with creatures of all sorts, aliens of many different homes living together harmoniously. Chanyeol cannot see anyone like themselves, though. Jongin stands out among the crowd where he leans over peering at a market stall. He comes back with a bracelet and a blinding smile, and he gives both to Chanyeol.

 

“Wear this, Chanyeol!” he demands lovingly. Chanyeol slips on the bracelet carefully. It is beaded with beautiful glowing pearls and the liquid inside of them swirls like the cosmos around them. Chanyeol tightens it around his wrist. He is reminded of Baekhyun when he stares at the white glow, as if a piece of the boy is with him now, shining. Chanyeol smiles to the ground, a small smile that pleases Jongin wonderfully and sets them off to another bustling stall.

 

“Try a free drink! Special galaxy drinks, try them here!”

 

There’s a stall selling drinks that lies dangerously close to the edge of its platform. There is a dark expanse of space right behind it, and Chanyeol finds himself tightening his hold on Jongin’s arm as they pass by.

 

“Free drinks?” the boy behind the table calls to them. He looks a lot like Chanyeol’s people. Jongin nods right away and walks them closer.

 

Its wondrous, the array of drinks displayed on the table. They sparkle like the stars in the sky, almost as if someone had reached out and collected parts of the universe in little mugs. Some of them are intensely coloured, like the light that spills from the rips, and Chanyeol is convinced the boy has collected the stars and their tears to serve to the passing people.

 

“How did you make these?”

 

There’s a hearty chuckle from Jongin, who is busy wolfing down every drink before him.

 

“That,” the boy says, leaning closer to Chanyeol, “is a very secret secret.”

 

He winks before handing Chanyeol a warm cup and a napkin. The liquid inside is a most pretty purple.

 

“We’re Cafe Universe,” the boy explains, smoothing his hands over his apron that has “My Small Universe” written on in tiny print.

 

_Cute._

 

“We’re as in we are, as in myself and my co-worker who’s left me all alone,” he continues with a smile, and Chanyeol can’t help but find it adorably endearing how the other rambles.

 

He brings the drink to his lips and lets himself taste the concoction, humming in delight as a delicately sweet goodness fills his mouth. Chanyeol is taken aback by the texture of the small sparkles. They feel cool on his teeth, and pop when he bites down, like little stars that have been frozen. He wishes Sehun were here to try it with him, or his mother and sister. They would enjoy it for sure.

 

“You like it?” the boy pipes up again, eyes wide and twinkling. Chanyeol nods.

 

“Oh this is good,” he says gleefully, clapping his hands together. “Baekhyun will be so pleased that you like his drink!”

 

Jongin takes the mug from Chanyeol’s hands before he can drop it. He must not have heard correctly. Baekhyun could be anybody.

 

It doesn’t help to reason with himself. Chanyeol forgets the taste of the drink in his mouth when he falls over the edge.

 

 _Please_ , he pleads. His vision becomes warm, orange, then red. What should he ask for, from the deities above? Baekhyun to visit him now, as he falls? Baekhyun to visit him later, when he’s dead?

 

There is black around him so fast, and then a sleep that burns and Chanyeol always burns so good.

 

//

 

They are thirteen when Chanyeol sets Baekhyun ablaze. It’s a warm, warm day. The sky above them rips slowly, and the heat from inside oozes out to drip onto the ground and the buildings and even the soft grass they sit on.

 

Baekhyun sits beside Chanyeol with his knees drawn to his chest. He’s wearing his pajamas still - they only just got out of bed, to watch their morning stars rise.

 

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol calls, moving to rest his head on the other’s shoulder. His skin is cool, pleasantly cool under the scorching heat.

 

 _It must be his light_ , Chanyeol thinks. He presses his cheek against the skin of Baekhyun’s arm. _His light is always so cool._ Chanyeol groans at the contact of cold on his burning skin. He lets himself close his eyes to the soothing sensation, finds peace with the sound of Baekhyun’s steady breathing.

 

There are hands in his hair almost immediately, and then Chanyeol is being moved to lie on Baekhyun’s lap where the fabric of his shorts rides high and the skin of his thighs are cooler. And Baekhyun lets him be like this for a while. He cards gentle fingers through Chanyeol’s hair, separates the knots, brushes away the strays.

 

“Do not fall asleep, Chanyeol-ah,” Baekhyun speaks softly just as Chanyeol’s eyes flutter closed. “Last time you fell asleep I couldn’t move you off me and then we were both late to school.”

 

Chanyeol can hear the pout in Baekhyun’s words. He cracks open an eye to see the boy peering down at him, brows furrowed.

 

Baekhyun presses the back of his hand to Chanyeol’s forehead, then to his cheeks and neck. It feels good, Baekhyun always feels so good.

 

“You’re very warm today,” he observes quitely. Chanyeol loves it when Baekhyun gives him this attention. It’s impossibly adorable. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

“No, I’m dying.”

 

“Chanyeol!” Baekhyun smacks his arm, hard.

 

“Hey! Relax,” Chanyeol fights the urge to giggle. His mouth aches from suppressing his smile. Baekhyun would only grow more angry to see Chanyeol laughing anyway. “I think I’m okay, seriously. Just feeling hot inside as well, you know.”

 

The fire inside Chanyeol is always restless on warm days. And even more so when Baekhyun is like this, all touchy and soft. The boy turns Chanyeol’s head back to face the city before them, so that his cheek is pressed on Baekhyun’s skin again. The cold returns to Chanyeol quickly, rids the fire the little that it can.

 

“You shouldn’t say things like that, hyung,” Baekhyun whines. He scratches the hair at the nape of Chanyeol’s neck. “You’re so annoying.”

 

Chanyeol hums. He can feel his eyes growing heavy again.

 

“Don’t worry, Baek,” he mumbles. Sleep approaches him fast when Baekhyun soothes him like this.

 

“Not going anywhere.”

 

And he moves his head to press his lips to Baekhyun’s thigh, a token of gratitude, a seal for his promise, or something else entirely. Baekhyun’s hand falters on his neck. Another kiss for his friend, right above the one he gave a second ago. And then Chanyeol is back to sleep, slipping quietly under while Baekhyun holds him.

 

He feels the boy warm slowly, and the heat seaps into Chanyeol in an unforgiving trickle.

 

The sting on Chanyeol’s back is excruciating. He wakes to himself screaming in pain, eyes streaming out tears, body lax and unmoving. Someone gives him water to drink, and then a powerful shot of liquid into his arm until he returns to a world of black. Over and over this happens, until finally Chanyeol wakes to calm and silence. He adjusts his sight to the light of the room, which is soft and a delicate blue hue. There’s a chair to his right with someone in it, a boy with dark hair that falls over his eyes. He seems to be sleeping, Chanyeol can see his chest rise and fall steadily. And there is a warmth around Chanyeol’s hand, he realises, that comes from the other holding his own.

 

“Jongin?” Chanyeol whispers. He squeezes the boy’s hand softly. Why would Jongin have changed his hair while Chanyeol was asleep? Maybe he’s been asleep for a long time. Chanyeol remembers falling and burning and nothing much else.

 

“You’re awake!”

 

Jongin is so loud, and he is not the boy who sleeps beside him. Chanyeol winces at the sound of his friend wailing and cursing dramatically as he rushes in through the door, professing his worry and love for Chanyeol’s sweet life.

 

He breaks into a wide grin at the spectacle, feels the skin of his lips split with the stretch.

 

“Shut up, Jongin.”

 

Jongin wails again.

 

“You really are so clumsy, Chanyeol-ah!” He jumps onto the bed by Chanyeol’s feet.

 

“Don’t go around falling into space whenever you feel like it!”

 

Jongin buries his face into Chanyeol’s knees, moves his arms to lock around Chanyeol’s legs. He seems positively shaken.

 

“Sorry,” Chanyeol says softly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

 

Chanyeol didn’t even mean to fall in the first place. He doesn’t remember why he did.

 

The boy beside him stirs then, squeezes Chanyeol’s fingers once, twice, before his eyes flutter open and he blinks them to wake. He rips his hand away from Chanyeol’s and stumbles out of the room red faced and troubled.

 

“Wait!” Chanyeol calls. He wants to know his name. “What’s your-”

 

The pain in his back returns as soon as Chanyeol moves to sit upright. It’s an unbearable pain, like the skin there is ripping everywhere, too thin to withhold the stretch. He cries out, an ugly sound from the pit of his chest that echoes through the room, before he feels himself losing to unconsciousness. The bed beside him dips quickly, soft fingers holding his face, soft voice telling him to stay, please stay.

 

“Jongin?” Chanyeol cannot hear his own voice. He is falling again, fast

 

“Chanyeol,” someone breathes, voice wavering and broken. They are not Jongin, who remains silent somewhere in the room. Chanyeol can tell this much.  He feels hands in his hair gripping it tight, then raggard breaths mixing with his own shaky ones.

 

“You cannot give up now,” they breathe, forehead against Chanyeol’s. “Do you hear me?”

 

_Yes._

 

The black blankets everything again, slower this time, but sickening still.

 

“Look at me, Chanyeol.”

 

_Who are you?_

 

//

 

“You’ll take me one day, won’t you Yeollie?”

 

Planet Earth is an interesting planet. The creatures that live there are called humans, apparently, and they look similar to Chanyeol’s own people! How fascinating! Baekhyun peers over his friend’s shoulder as they gaze at pictures of the Milky Way, taken by venturing scientists collecting information and data.

 

“Of course I will!” Chanyeol promises. “We’ll fly there together and have a holiday!”

 

“Yes,” Baekhyun agrees wholeheartedly. He takes Chanyeol’s hand in his own to join with the rest of the class. “And we can take snacks with us, so we don’t get hungry.”

 

They see a model of the Solar System that Earth belongs to, a breathtaking model of the planets whirling around the room and passing through your fingers when you reach out to touch. None of their classmates stop to watch. They linger around for a moment or two, then dash off to look at the spacecrafts and magic spices the museum showcases. Something about the Solar System draws Chanyeol and Baekhyun in, always.

 

“Do you think we’ll make friends there?” Baekhyun asks as he stands gazing up at Earth. The light from the Sun in the centre of the room makes Baekhyun look like a star.

 

“I think so,” Chanyeol replies in earnest. “But we’ll need to learn their tongue first.”

 

“Oh, you are right, Chanyeollie!”

 

//

 

Chanyeol’s people are magical creatures. They look a lot like humans, from Earth in the Milky Way, except for some differences like the shimmer to their skin and the length in their height. Beneath their skin exists a different system of life, capable of breathing in open space and healing wounds considerably faster than humans can. Chanyeol’s people came many, many years before them.

 

Something is wrong with Chanyeol. He cannot heal fast, like he always could. It’s been too long since he last woke, Chanyeol knows this. He can hear the voices around him, quiet and hushed conversations about his sleep, how much longer he’ll need to rest. They said he burned his back severely when he fell into space, like comets and meteors do as they fly fast. Chanyeol can only imagine how disgusting the skin there will be.

 

There’s always a beautiful voice, lovely and warm, that tells him sweet things.

 

“You are so beautiful, Chanyeol” and “Look how well you’ve grown” and more that makes Chanyeol warm everywhere, even in his sleep. Perhaps it is Baekhyun again, visiting him as he rests. He cannot see him, but he’s sure the boy is as pretty as ever. How happy Chanyeol would be if he ever had him back.

 

He is alone when he wakes. His back feels tight, like the skin there is closing, finally.

 

“Jongin,” Chanyeol calls.

 

There is no answer.

 

Chanyeol lifts himself out of bed slowly. The muscle in his legs take a while to come back to life. He walks out of the room with a hand on the wall beside him, taking small, careful steps until he reaches the end of the corridor. The room it opens up to is large and airy, with glass for every wall and a tall ceiling.

 

“Chanyeol!”

 

A man rushes forward to hold Chanyeol’s arms. He seems familiar.

 

“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” he says while moving Chanyeol to a seat, brows furrowed and eyes wides.

 

He’s the one from the drink stall.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“That’s alright,” the man hushes. “Are you sure you’re okay to be here? You’re not in any pain?”

 

Chanyeol shakes his head, eyes trained on the other’s chest. He wears the same apron, ‘Cafe Universe’. Now that he looks around, Chanyeol can see that this is in fact a cafe. He is sitting up the front, at a bar with tons of interesting drinks and pastries behind. There are nice tables and chairs spread throughout the room.

 

“I’m Minseok, by the way,” the man says. He moves around the bar and starts to gather some cups and jars.

 

“Let me make you a drink, you must be thirsty.”

 

Chanyeol _is_ thirsty. His throat feels as dry as a desert.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Minseok works silently making the drink. Chanyeol observes him carefully, studies the bow of his lips, the shape of his eyes. He’s very handsome.

 

“Where is Jongin?” Chanyeol asks. There seems to be no one else around.

 

“He’s out on an errand,” Minseok says, “with Kyungsoo.”

 

_Kyungsoo?_

 

“He works here with me.”

 

Chanyeol nods slowly. Jongin running an errand with a friend of Minseok’s. Something seems strange.

 

“How long have I been out?” Chanyeol will not be phased by any amount of time that’s gone by while he slept. This is all too familiar to him. Maybe Jongin has found home with these people in the meantime.

 

There’s a flicker of worry in Minseok’s eyes.

 

“Chanyeo-”

 

“Please,” Chanyeol interrupts. “I just want to know what’s going on.”

 

The drink is cold on his tongue, and refreshingly tangy. Chanyeol gulps it down before Minseok can answer. He sets the cup down to see the other waiting, watching.

 

Minseok takes a deep breath.

 

“You’ve been sleeping for two months. We tried everything we could to heal you faster, but there seemed to be serious damage to the nerves under your burn, and that delayed the process. A lot.”

 

Chanyeol does not say anything.

 

“Jongin has been here with you the whole time. I think he wants to stay, but only if you will.”

 

Minseok moves to sit beside Chanyeol.

 

“And the other one, the one who fed me and stayed with me every night,” Chanyeol says quietly. “Who is he?”

 

“Ah,” Minseok smiles to his lap, as if hiding a bigger smile inside. “That was Eun.”

 

 _Eun_.

 

“He’s very fond of you.” There’s a sparkle in Minseok’s eyes that Chanyeol catches. It’s strange though, because the other does not look full of mirth or mischief. He seems a little hesitant when he moves to clean Chanyeol’s cup, a little sad.

 

“But we’ve never met before.”

 

Chanyeol is flattered, his cheeks turn a furious shade of pink. But why would someone grow a liking for him if all he’s been doing is sleeping?

 

Minseok laughs a hearty laugh, and the sound of bells jingling chimes in with his chuckle almost immediately.

 

“Well, you can meet him now.”

 

Chanyeol turns to see a group of people stumble in through the door. Among them is Jongin, who walks in holding a large bag to his chest. And the others carry things too. They look a lot like Chanyeol’s people.

 

“Chanyeol!”

 

Jongin drops his bag and runs to crush him in a tight hug, careful with his arms around Chanyeol’s neck instead of his back. This way, Chanyeol is forced into Jongin’s chest. Truth be told, Chanyeol is most grateful of Jongin’s existence in this moment. They are young in their friendship, but Jongin makes it seem they have been friends forever. The tie between them is strong, has been strong since the very first time they met on the ship.

 

Chanyeol sighs into the fabric of Jongin’s jumper.

 

“I thought you left,” Chanyeol confesses, hugging  the boy back just as tight around the waist. How tragic would that have been? Chanyeol would have lost another. He can feel Jongin shaking his head.

 

He breaks away from the hug to see the others standing behind, watching silently and smiling.

 

“Jongin, why don’t you introduce everyone?” Minseok stands beside them. Jongin nods, shuffles over to stand beside Chanyeol, arm slung over his shoulders.

 

“Chanyeol, this is Kyungsoo.” Jongin gestures to a man wearing glasses. Kyungsoo offers a small smile and a wave. He seems polite.

 

“This is Junmyeon hyung.”

 

Junmyeon steps forward with a palm out to Chanyeol. He shakes his hand with a good, firm grip.

 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Chanyeol.”

 

“You too.”

 

Chanyeol lets his eyes fall on the last one, who looks back at him with an intense gaze. Not dangerous, no. But rather passionate and curious. He stares at Chanyeol for a long while, long enough to make the back of his neck warm with a glowing heat.

 

He has very pretty eyes, small and droopy, soft.

 

Chanyeol fights the blush creeping up to his ears.

 

“And this is Eun.”

 

 _Eun_.

 

Chanyeol cannot help but flush pink. This time his ears turn red and burn hotter than the warmest of fires. Eun stares at him with a beaming smile, like he had reached up and swallowed the stars from their place in the sky.

 

“Hello, Chanyeol.”

 

Chanyeol smiles to the floor, then up at Eun.

 

“Hello.”

 

Junmyeon clears his throat, and then they start to trickle into the back with what Chanyeol assumes are the groceries. Minseok mumbles something before he follows them, but Eun stays. He does not leave.

 

Chanyeol moves to follow the others to the back.

 

“Stay,” Eun says softly. Chanyeol blinks.

 

“Okay.”

 

He sits back down on the stool, and Eun takes a seat next to him. He looks at Chanyeol with pretty eyes, small and droopy. Their gaze is strong, a deep blue that makes it seem as if there are entire oceans hidden inside. Chanyeol fights the blush creeping up to his ears. Eun reaches forward with a hand, and Chanyeol’s eyes grow wide when the other tucks a piece of his hair behind his ear. He lets his fingers linger on Chanyeol’s skin, before he takes them away to rest on his lap.

 

“How are you feeling?” he asks, tilting his head to one side.

 

Chanyeol is so confused. And even more embarrassed. Who is this sweetheart?

 

He clears his throat.

 

“I feel good,” he says simply. He becomes shy of the other’s gaze, so he keeps his eyes trained on Eun’s chin.

 

Eun sighs.

 

“That’s good,” he says. “You were asleep for so long. Everyone was very worried.”

 

That reminds him. Chanyeol is quick to thank Eun for his time and kindness.

 

“Thank you for looking after me,” he tells him, “I could recognise it when you visited me. You must’ve given up a lot of time.”

 

Eun laughs a beautiful laugh, throwing his head back and scrunching his eyes closed. Chanyeol’s breath hitches.

 

“Don’t worry about that, babe.”

 

_Babe._

 

Eun waves a hand in the air, dismissing Chanyeol’s worry.

 

“I wanted to, okay?” Chanyeol cannot breathe. This man is mesmerizing.

 

“Okay,” he whispers.

 

There’s a small sound of snickering from behind them, from the corridor. Chanyeol turns to catch a glimpse of someone hiding, fast. His neck flushes with heat.

 

 _This is embarrassing_ , he thinks, almost a little sullenly.

 

_Who is this guy?_

 

“So,” Eun starts again, walking behind the counter, “tell me how you came here. Jongin says it’s a good story.”

 

He pulls out two mugs, jars, liquids. He must be making a drink. Chanyeol would like another drink.

 

“Well, Jongin and I are from Tel Aviv-”

 

Eun makes a small sound, almost like a whine. He looks apologetic for interrupting.

 

“You know Tel Aviv?” Chanyeol asks. He leans forward over the counter.

 

“Well,” Eun sighs, “I’ve visited before.”

 

Chanyeol shoots up with excitement.  Eun has seen his home.

 

“I was going to ask, because you all look so similar to my people,” Chanyeol rushes out. “Where are you all from?”

 

The silence that follows is heavy. Eun does not speak for a while, he does not move, does not even breathe.

 

“Eun?”

 

“I was born here, in Andromeda. My parents are from your home.”

 

Chanyeol nods in understanding. He is given the same drink he drank before he fell that day. They sip on their drinks slowly, bask in the silence that surrounds them. It’s a little uncomfortable, Chanyeol feels. Why had Eun reacted like that, when Chanyeol asked about his home? He should be careful about it anyway. He should be polite, this is the least he can do to pay back for the man’s kindness.

 

Someone comes sauntering through the corridor and into the cafe area. He has bright orange hair that compliments him fairly nicely. Eun makes a loud sound. He hollers.

 

“Dae! What the fuck did you do to yourself last night?!” This is how he greets ‘Dae’, with a booming voice and a dramatic wave of his arm.

 

The other laughs, a sweet cackle, and his eyes disappear into little crescent moons.

 

“Chanyeol!” he gasps once he turns his attention to Chanyeol. “You’re doing alright, hey?”

 

Chanyeol nods. He is overwhelmed by this man’s aura.

 

“This is Jongdae,” Eun introduces, and Jongdae smiles again while waving to say hello.

 

He secures the tie of his apron around his waist, smooths the fabric down over his body.

 

“Any customers today, Eun?” he asks. He takes the empty mug from Eun’s hand and washes it under a spray.

 

Chanyeol looks out the windows about them and searches the city for people. Where are they, the creatures bustling about the marketplaces? Chanyeol cannot see many from where the cafe is, and it’s not far from the popular metropolis. The city looks barren, dead almost. There are a few creatures on the street, but not very many at that. They seem to not know what to do, wandering around aimlessly. Nearly all the stalls are empty.

 

“Where is everybody?” Chanyeol asks, brows furrowed. He feels dread pool in his stomach. Something doesn’t feel right.

 

Jongdae seems to have frozen where he washes, Eun a picture of worry and concern.

 

“Why are we still here?” Chanyeol chokes out. They can’t stay here. He turns to Eun, who does not say anything. But he looks sad, like watching Chanyeol figure this out is painful.

 

Chanyeol tries again.

 

“Why haven’t we left?!”

 

“Chanyeo-”

 

Chanyeol stands up abruptly, pushes the stool away from him as he backs away towards the corridor.

 

“Please tell me where Jongin is,” he says softly. Jongdae rushes forward. He ushers him to a room where Jongin sits on a bed reading a book.

 

“Hyung.”

 

Jongin gives him a big smile. Always so bubbly.

 

“Why are we staying here, Jongin?”

 

There is a rip in the sky, a tear. Chanyeol could see it from the cafe, a breathtaking tear oozing out light and heat. Andromeda is going to die.

 

“Jongin.”

 

How many times will they have to pick up and leave? Chanyeol feels unbothered for it, but still the fear of dying drives him to want an escape.

 

“There is nowhere else to go, Chanyeol,” Jongin whispers. He crawls onto the bed, closes Jongin’s book and sets it aside to sit in front of his friend.

 

“So we’re going to die here.” Chanyeol speaks it as a fact, not a question.

 

Jongin nods.

 

And then Chanyeol is engulfing him in a warm embrace, a hug that crushes both of their chests and topples them over to lie on the bed. Jongin buries his head in Chanyeol’s neck.

 

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” he apologises, voice thick, laced  with the urge to burst out in tears.

 

Chanyeol does not say anything. He will die here. And he will die soon, surely. He lets that sink in.

 

“I’m afraid, Jongin.”

 

“Me too.”

 

Everything seems to be happening too fast, too fast. Where is the sloth of time that always choked him on the ship, when he slept, when he woke? Chanyeol wants that now, to slow down time, to gather his thoughts. He was not ready to wake and come face to death so suddenly.

 

“They are good people,” Jongin murmurs, “the people here.”

 

Chanyeol hums. He can tell.

 

Maybe it is time to settle down. The entire universe will disappear to this apocalypse eventually, so what is the point of running, right?

 

Right?

 

He falls asleep trying to believe so. Jongin sleeps too.

 

//

 

They have six months. After that, they will be gone.

 

Chanyeol finds it hard to understand how the others are okay with staying. This is his struggle at first. But he learns, slowly, slowly. And he learns to love it.

 

Cafe Universe is a most wonderful place with the most wonderful people. Chanyeol feels it again, the feeling he felt on the ship when he dreamt about the beach. He feels thunderous around the others, feels their energy seep into his skin and kiss him everywhere; an electric love that Chanyeol cannot get enough of. He finds himself drowning, like the waves of that beach were at his feet at every moment, and around his lungs the next.

 

“Don’t you dare!” Kyungsoo yells one day, as Chanyeol runs around the large kitchen trying to smear cake on the other’s face. There is flour everywhere, eggs broken and shattered on the bench, milk dangerously close to tipping over. Jongdae laughs from somewhere in the lounge, amused by the spectacle.

 

Some days Chanyeol spends with Junmyeon, flying around the city visiting places he hadn’t before. They take a cool little ranger, made almost entirely of windows. Chanyeol feels like he’s flying. Junmyeon takes him to get groceries at a small shop a while away from the cafe. The trip there is lonely, the streets below them barren and bare.

 

“Hello,” Junmyeon greets to nobody. They enter through a shimmery, liquid door that parts for them, like magical water separating before Moses of Earth.

 

 _How strange_ , Chanyeol muses. He takes in the sight before him, the clutter of spices and jellies and liquids lying about. Chanyeol wonders if it was always this way. Maybe it was neater once, before the people tried to leave so quickly.

 

“Good morning, Junmyeon.”

 

Chanyeol cannot find a face to the voice. He searches behind the counter, behind the gaps in the small shelves, but there seems to be nobody other than them here. He looks at Junmyeon, confused. The other is already piling food into his bags.

 

“He left not long ago,” Junmyeon says finally, voice a heavy sigh. He stops rummaging around the shelves to look at Chanyeol.

 

“Who left?”

 

“The owner of this shop.”

 

The purple spice beside Chanyeol smells delicate, like the dream of a perfume on a lover’s neck. He thinks he’s smelled it somewhere before, somewhere lovely. But he cannot make the connection, because Junmyeon is speaking again, and the words deter his thoughts.

 

“He wanted to stay, but apparently he found his daughter,” Junmyeon continues. He places a few fruits into the bag in his arms. “He’s searching for her now.”

 

Chanyeol feels a churning in his stomach that is hot and heavy.

 

“He set up a voice activator to greet us whenever we come in.”

 

“Oh.” Chanyeol does not say much. Frankly the whole situation makes him feel an intense surge of loneliness. Here they are, the both of them buying their things amongst a city due to crumble so, so soon. Chanyeol cannot fathom their vulnerability, their chances of being the _only_ ones left. When he looks out the window he thinks he can see the dark blanketing them from everywhere, from every sky in every corner of the universe.

 

Where could this man be? Maybe he’s in his own little ranger, hurtling through space, voyaging towards another galaxy to find something special. Chanyeol wishes he could do the same, always wished he could do the same, ever since Baekhyun left. Of course, there is no hoping now. Baekhyun has passed, and soon Chanyeol will too.

 

They return to the cafe with handfuls of groceries. Chanyeol almost trips over his own feet trying to walk through the door. He can hear Junmyeon laughing, muffled and full of mirth. There are soft fingers on his arm in the next moment, and Chanyeol forgets to call Junmyeon out for teasing him.

 

“Let me help you,” Eun says from behind the towering bags Chanyeol has hugged to his chest.

 

He takes some of the weight off Chanyeol’s arms, leads him towards the counter with a hand to his back that is warm through his jumper, warm through his skin. Chanyeol blushes furiously when Eun places his bag down and moves both his hands to the taller’s waist, holding them there to guide Chanyeol to the storage room. He thanks the lords Junmyeon is already out of sight, otherwise he would have to endure teasing until the day he died.

 

“Is this okay?” Eun asks quietly, lips grazing Chanyeol’s ear and breathe hot on his neck. He squeezes Chanyeol’s waist once, twice, before stopping to receive an answer.

 

Chanyeol forgets to answer for a while. He forgets Eun even said anything in the first place, entranced by the other’s grip on his body, the other’s lips so close to his neck.

 

“Yeol?”

 

_Yeol._

 

_He says it so prettily._

 

“Y-yeah,” Chanyeol chokes out, smiling to hide the trembling in his lips.

 

Chanyeol would be lying if he agreed with the others that the storage room was eerily cold. It does not feel cold to him at all, because he is burning inside with Eun standing so close. The room is small.

 

Eun stands behind and watches Chanyeol pack the things away. When he’s done, when Chanyeol has placed the last of the items on the shelf above him, he walks closer to the boy and waits. Chanyeol turns around to Eun’s face right before his. He makes a strangled sound.

 

“Chanyeol,” the other starts, hands in his jacket pockets, shoulders relaxed. Chanyeol’s shoulders are not relaxed. “Do you wanna dye your hair, babe? I feel like you need a change.”

 

Chanyeol wants to answer, of course he does. But he can’t, again struck by the beauty of the man before him, breathing the same air as him.

 

There are fingers in his hair then, carding through his locks gently. Chanyeol lets himself close his eyes. He is reminded of Baekhyun.

 

“Hmm,” Eun hums, resting his wrist on Chanyeol’s nape and scratching the hair there. Chanyeol hums quietly too, leaning into the touch. “What do you say, love?”

 

The room is brighter when he opens his eyes again, brighter and glowing like little sparkles are dropping from the ceiling and those sparkles are from an exploded star. Maybe the dark behind his lids distorted his vision. Chanyeol blinks a few times, before smiling towards the floor. A small smile.

 

“Okay,” he answers timidly. He can match with Jongin, soft, grey hair. Or he can match with Minseok’s dark, dark black. Eun is laughing loudly before him, holding his hand through the door and into the outdoor area where the others are relaxing. It’s these moments, these violently beautiful moments, that make Chanyeol forget what is happening around them, what is happening many light years away on the ships that voyage with his people. He only feels what there is before him, the love of the people before him. He does not worry about his beloved, or his Sehun, like he does so much. The sorrow that lives inside of him dissipates into the skies around them, only for a little while, only for these little moments.

 

“Hyunggg,” Jongin whines later, face buried into Chanyeol’s chest. They’re dozing off under the stars, drunk and pleasantly high. Jongdae is still busy ascending into another dimension with his roll.

 

Chanyeol hums, moves his hand from under his head to play with Jongin’s hair.

 

“Who’s Sehun?” Jongin mumbles. He’s on the verge of sleep.

 

Chanyeol does not let the thought of Sehun plague the bliss of the moment. He thinks of the good times.

 

“My friend,” he answers simply. He lets out a big breath. “How do you know him?”

 

Jongin tightens his arms around Chanyeol’s waist, tightens his legs around Chanyeol’s own.

 

“You say his name in your sleep, hyung.”

 

The stars above them are aplenty tonight. Chanyeol focuses on counting them so he can escape the wrath of guilt chasing after him. Does he say Baekhyun’s name in his sleep too? Chanyeol hopes Jongin never asks, because Chanyeol would not know how to answer. He hasn’t talked about Baekhyun to anyone in _years_.

 

//

 

They get a customer, the first one in _weeks_. Chanyeol hears the chime of the bells from the bathroom where he takes a shower. He turns down the water to listen to them speak.

 

“Welcome to Cafe Universe,” Jongdae greets. Chanyeol can hear the smile in his voice. “How are you today?”

 

“I’m alright, thanks.”

 

A small pause.

 

“Can we get you a drink?” Eun speaks this time.

 

“Yes please. An iced tea, no sugar thank you.”

 

“Sure, and your name please?”

 

“Sehun.”

 

Chanyeol does not register it at first.

 

_Sehun._

 

When he does he jolts upright, banging his head on the showerhead. He stumbles out of the bathroom, towel slung loose around his waist, hair dripping wet, skin dripping wet. He bashes his toe against the door trying to get out, but the pain doesn’t even exist with the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

 

“Sehun?” he asks, breathless against the wall, face a ghastly grimace. The man at the table is not his Sehun. Chanyeol feels his heart shatter against the floor.

 

He must’ve started to cry, because Eun is suddenly before him, wiping his hands on his apron before moving the hair away from Chanyeol’s face and holding his cheeks. He can’t hear what he’s saying, soft lips moving against his ears, soft breath on his chest.

 

Eun takes him to his bedroom, to Eun’s bedroom. Chanyeol stands behind the other where he locks the door, stares at his stupid toe that throbs achingly now. There are tiny puddles next to his feet, small small drops of water. From his hair or his eyes, Chanyeol is not sure.

 

Eun turns around.

 

“What’s wrong, Chanyeol?” he whispers, voice thick with worry. He steps forward when Chanyeol does not say anything, small steps before he’s standing so close to Chanyeol he can feel the heat of the water rising from the other’s body.

 

“Who’s Sehun?”

 

Chanyeol does not expect to lose it all again. He tries to answer, to tell Eun he’s fine, but all he can do is look up at Eun and let out a choked sob. The other pulls him forward with a hand on his waist, holds Chanyeol in a tight hug. There is water between them, water seeping into Eun’s uniform and water sliding down Eun’s neck. Chanyeol cries everything out.

 

“Baby,” Eun calls, voice breaking midway. He seems shaken. Chanyeol wipes his nose and steps back.

 

“I’m sorry,” he starts to say, but Eun shushes him quickly. He places a hand on Chanyeol’s chest, which is naked still so Chanyeol’s ears blush prettily.

 

“Let’s get you dressed first, okay?”

 

Chanyeol nods. He slips into a big t-shirt Eun holds over his head, and as much as he doesn’t like to be babied, he enjoys the attention from Eun. He stumbles over his words when Eun offers to put on some shorts for him, waves his hands around and shakes his head but he can’t even get a word out, so Eun marches on.

 

“Shh, shh.” He kneels between Chanyeol’s legs. “Just let me.”

 

There are no words to describe the heat of the fire inside Chanyeol when Eun pries the towel away from his waist with his dainty fingers. Chanyeol is so embarrassed he doesn’t know where to look, and he is exhausted from crying to so he doesn’t fight Eun’s kindness. His cock is wet from the shower, limp and red from the heat. Eun pats it dry, then slips the shorts around Chanyeol’s ankles and up his legs. He whispers a soft “up” when he gets to Chanyeol’s thighs, and Chanyeol has to lift his body off the bed with his hands on the sheets to get the around his waist. His crotch is in Eun’s face for a good three seconds.

 

“Feeling better?” Eun whispers, still kneeling on the floor. Chanyeol is going to lose it again. He nods, doesn’t trust his voice to keep secret his fire.

 

“Good.”

 

Eun dries Chanyeol’s hair with the towel, stands between his thighs and ruffles his hair until it isn’t dripping anymore. He moves the towel away and brushes back Chanyeol’s fringe with his fingers. It feels so good, delicate and soothing.

 

“Sleep now, okay babe?” Eun rubs his ears, and surely he can feel that they are burning because he bends down and kisses them, two small pecks on his ears. And then he’s slipping out of the room, closing the door gently behind him. Chanyeol forgets he is in Eun’s bed when he dozes off, and he also forgets to tell Eun who Sehun is, but he figures he can do that when he wakes up, when he’s calmed down.

 

He wakes later to something trying to pry its way into his mouth, a warm, metallic object. It’s a spoon. Chanyeol opens his mouth to eat before he even opens his eyes, hungry from crying out his lungs and sleeping straight after.

 

“Look at you,” someone coos. It’s Eun, placing the spoon back into the bowl in his hands. He looks tired, like he might’ve been crying, because his eyes are puffy and his face lax. His shoulders sag where he sits beside Chanyeol.

 

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

 

Chanyeol lifts himself up to sit against the pillow.

 

“Sehun is m-”

 

Eun brings another spoonful of rice to his mouth, effectively shuts Chanyeol up with the food. He’s not complaining though.

 

“It’s alright, Chanyeol,” he says. “You don’t have to tell me, baby. I know you’re really tired so just eat.”

 

 _Baby_.

 

Chanyeol supposes he’ll risk a little bit of his heart for this.

 

“Why do you call me things like that?” He mumbles, mouth full and shy now so he drops his gaze to his lap.

 

Eun makes a little sound, out of surprise or endearment Chanyeol doesn’t know.

 

“Like what?” he asks, head tilted to the side, mouth hanging open. He is so pretty like this, so pretty always.

 

Chanyeol facepalms his mind. He’s gotten himself into a sweet, sweet trap.

 

“Like… baby,” he mumbles, “and babe.”

 

“I’m sorry, does it make you feel uncomfortable?” Eun asks. “I’ll stop, just tell me to.”

 

Chanyeol supposes he could also jump out the window above his head right now if he really wanted to. How does he tell Eun he wants it more, more and more and more every time he calls him so prettily.

 

“No,” Chanyeol says, shaking his head. “I like it. You don’t have to stop.”

 

Eun gives him a dazzling smile, like rays of light are beaming out from between his teeth.

 

“Okay pup.”

 

Chanyeol whines, hides his face into a pillow and lets out a muffled scream. Eun laughs loudly, flicks the other’s big, burning ears with his hand and Chanyeol finally feels the tension in his bones uncoil and disappear.

 

They come out of Eun’s bedroom later, laughing at a story Chanyeol tells of Baekhyun trying to skate but failing adorably. Eun listens so attentively sometimes Chanyeol thinks the other is spacing out.

 

“He seems lovely, your Baekhyun,” Eun says while they walk through the corridor to the back patio. Minseok walks by them, eyeing Eun warily, almost with a tension in his eyes, but Chanyeol dismisses it for the other’s obsessive cleaning habit. He’s probably freaking out at the mess Kyungsoo’s made of the kitchen, or something.

 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol breathes. “He was.”

 

“Was?” Eun stops them just before they walk out. His hand slips from Chanyeol’s waist where he likes to hold.

 

Chanyeol presses his lips together.

 

“I think he’s passed away,” he says quietly, “but I’m not too sure of it.”

 

Eun blinks at him, silent, waiting for him to say more.

 

“He’s been dead to me for years,” Chanyeol says. “He left me.” The sorrow in Chanyeol’s voice is sharp and painful, and suddenly the mood turns sour and dark.

 

Eun excuses himself to go check the kitchen, telling Chanyeol he didn’t get a chance to before and he’ll be killed for it if he doesn’t do it soon.

 

“Okay,” Chanyeol says, and slips outside with his hands in his pockets and Eun’s voice in his mind. Such a lovely person. Maybe Chanyeol would not mind forgetting Baekhyun for him.

 

//

 

Eun kisses him senseless one night, when Chanyeol is shuffling around the kitchen trying to find some ice. It is impossibly hot during the nights.

 

He whips around at the sound of Eun humming, leaning against the counter and watching Chanyeol.

 

“What’s got you up so late?” he asks, smiling sweetly.

 

Chanyeol feels dizzy.

 

“Thirsty,” he manages to say.

 

Eun hums again, a pretty “Hmm” that rings through Chanyeol’s head over and over. He walks towards Chanyeol with a lazy stride, as if he too woke from sleep and the weight of his slumber has not disappeared from his step. He stands very close.

 

Chanyeol can feel the other’s breath hot on the skin of his neck. And then he feels a tickle on his chin from Eun’s hair. But that does not phase him, because there are lips on the hollow of his neck where the sweat pools unforgivingly. Eun moves back, lets Chanyeol breathe. He knows how he affects Chanyeol. It makes him so sexy, in this dim light of the stars around them, alone in the dead of night.

 

He kisses Chanyeol again, further up this time, hot open-mouthed kisses trailing up his neck achingly slow. Chanyeol does not know what to do with his hands. He lets them grip the counter behind him, tight. And then he lets out a soft whine, a desperate little sound, when Eun kisses him under his jaw.

 

“Baby,” Eun whispers, and Chanyeol loses himself completely.

 

He kisses him deep and slow, hungrily and sweetly. He holds Chanyeol’s face in is hands, caresses his neck, caresses his cheek. Chanyeol moves his hands to hold Eun’s waist.

 

“Baby,” the other calls again.

 

Chanyeol breathes slowly.

 

What are they doing? He feels his heart rip inside of him.

 

They are going to die soon.

 

Minseok is merciless in his pursuit to milk details out of Chanyeol. He drags Chanyeol into the bathroom when they’re both about to greet the others for breakfast.

 

“Is something wrong, hyung?” Chanyeol asks, peering at Minseok curiously as the other locks the door.

 

Chanyeol feels his cheeks burn up the instant Minseok turns around with a smirk.

 

There are a thousand different reasons why Chanyeol is shy of Minseok. Firstly, Minseok always treats him like a baby, fresh out the womb, delicate and fragile. Chanyeol hates that if it’s not from Eun, but whenever he tries to fight it off, Minseok just does something entirely stupid. Like kiss his cheek. Or ruffle his hair.

 

“Hyung.” Chanyeol tries sternly, arms crossed and face twisted into a scowl. “I can reach it by myself. You’re shorter than me, it doesn’t even make any sense for you to get it?!”

 

Minseok lets out a low chuckle from where he’s stood on a chair, shuffling through the contents on the top shelf to find some jelly pearls. He hands them over to Chanyeol with a big, big smile.

 

“But what if you fell onto the stove? Hmm Chanyeol?” Minseok teases, hopping down from the chair. It’s an entirely ridiculous argument, and Chanyeol fights the urge to laugh his head off. He has to keep his cool.

 

“Wouldn’t want that for our _baby_ now, would we?” he says with a ridiculous baby voice.

 

“Hyung!” Chanyeol yells, face flushed, stomping away from Minseok and to Junmyeon’s room. “Junmyeon hyung!”

 

Junmyeon comes crashing through the door. He eyes Chanyeol worriedly, frantic and restless in his pursuit to find a wound, a burn, anything that could be inflicting Chanyeol pain.

 

“What’s wrong, Yeol?”

 

Chanyeol points a finger to Minseok who stands at the end of the corridor, smirking.

 

“Minseok hyung is being annoying,” he complains, arms still crossed.

 

There’s a silence between them now that itches Chanyeol’s nerves. Junmyeon stares at him with disbelief, and then at Minseok with disbelief too.

 

“Well?” Chanyeol urges, trying to ground his upper hand.

 

“Gosh, babe.”

 

It’s Eun, who saunters down the hallway towards Minseok. Chanyeol lets his mouth drop open, a usual response to Eun’s company.

 

“You should just come to me if any of these grandpas are annoying you.” He stops next to Minseok and secures the apron to his back. “You know I’ll do anything for you, pup.”

 

And Junmyeon is snickering as he backs away into his room, Minseok disappearing slowly behind the wall with a grin plastered to his face. Chanyeol follows after Eun, dumbfounded by the other’s immense and sudden presence.

 

“Where have you been, hyung?” Chanyeol asks. Minseok told him earlier that day that Eun was actually older than him.

 

Eun stops where he’s busy checking the mugs.

 

“Hyung?” he repeats. He looks confused.

 

“Hyung?” Chanyeol repeats back, also confused and starting to suspect Minseok, again. He looks over to the man hiding a big smile behind a cupboard door. Chanyeol will kill him, he really will.

 

Eun lets out a roaring laugh. He throws his head back and laughs like his chest will explode from it.

 

“I’m not your hyung, Chanyeol,” he says, voice thick with mirth.

 

Chanyeol is embarrassed, more embarrassed than he remembers ever being.

 

_Then who are you?_

 

“Well, technically I _am_ older than you now that you've been eighteen for practically half your life while I've been aging," Eun explains with a soft crease in his brows, "but really, I was born after you, so _yo_ _u’re_ my hyung, Chanyeol.”

 

_Oh god._

 

“Sorry, should I stop calling you my baby then? It _is_ a bit weird isn’t it?”

 

Eun is walking closer again, that sly, sexy gait that drives Chanyeol insane. He wants to do so many things to him, like suck him dry.

 

“No,” he says firmly. Eun stops in his tracks. “Don’t stop.”

 

And then Chanyeol is rushing to the bathroom to wrap a hand around the growing heat in his pants. Eun does this to him, gosh.

 

//

 

It’s fascinating how quickly he falls into place here, in this quaint little cafe on the outskirts of Andromeda.

 

Chanyeol feels guilt, always a festering guilt that eats away at him for being okay and having fun. This is what he is blessed with, but at the expense of what? Leaving his entire family behind.

 

And Eun. Chanyeol likes him so much, finds himself wanting to hold him close, kiss him senseless. What is this feeling that should only exist for Baekhyun? Baekhyun has stopped visiting him. Chanyeol realises this as he lies awake one night, trying to sleep beside Junmyeon who has an arm around his waist, snoring peacefully. Eun sleeps on the floor among the rest of them. They lie on top of pillows and blankets with their bodies tangled together in one heap. He is radiant even in his sleep, almost as if his skin glows. Chanyeol stares until he feels his eyes grow heavy, but still he cannot sleep. He wishes for his baby to come to him, to sing him to sleep. But Baekhyun does not come that night. He does not come the night after, or the night after that. Chanyeol does not know what this means. He does not know how he should feel. Relief, because he can finally let go? Sorrow, because he has fallen in love with someone else? Chanyeol lets himself feel all these things, one by one, sometimes all at once.

 

//

 

He doesn’t know what do the next time he bumps into Eun. The other is hurrying through the hallway, rushing to finish running his errands so he can join the others in their movie marathon. Chanyeol would offer his help, but he is extremely shy of Eun now, so.

 

“Hello, hyung,” Eun greets, stopping to smile at Chanyeol.

 

Chanyeol chokes on air.

 

“Oh sorry, baby,” Eun says, making a big deal of correcting himself.

 

This is not helping.

 

“I’m really sorry but I’ve got to get the groceries, Yeol. I’ll see you in a few!” Eun is shuffling away before Chanyeol can even say anything.

 

“Wait!” he calls, “let me help you.”

 

“Okay but you better hurry into the ranger, I’m leaving in a minute!”

 

They visit a different shop this time. It’s great and marvelous, with majestic architecture that reminds Chanyeol of the palaces back home. The windows are tinted different colours, stained beautiful reds and greens, and together they create wondrously detailed images of mothers in robes holding babies and rays of light shining from behind. Chanyeol is mesmerized.

 

“What is this place?” he asks, jaw hanging open.

 

Eun smiles at him sheepishly from ahead. He’s climbing a grand set of stairs.

 

“It’s a church,” he tells Chanyeol, looking serene. “I’m sorry I told you we were going shopping.”

 

Chanyeol doesn’t mind. If anything, he is just more curious as to why Eun was in such a hurry to get to this place. They enter through a creaky set of wooden doors, heavy and aging horribly fast. Chanyeol has to help push it open with the force of his shoulder, and when he moves back, there is dust prancing around his clothes chaotically. Inside, there are rows and rows and rows of long seats, a walkway down the middle, and at the very end, right up the front, there’s an elevated stage with a beautiful piano and podium sat atop. Great statues line the wall behind, intricate and towering statues that Chanyeol is sure are just real people frozen underneath a mask of clay.  

 

They sit in the first row. For some time it’s silent, and Chanyeol senses an achingly sorrowful air between them, like the peace and quiet of this place is forcing them to come face with their demons.

 

“People come here to worship God,” Eun breathes, voice a shallow whisper. Chanyeol does not want to look at him; he will give Eun the privacy of reflection and pondering.

 

“Do you believe in God?” Chanyeol asks, moving his hand to hold Eun’s. It’s a burning hand, Chanyeol knows this, and Eun knows this too. If it were anyone else, they would’ve asked. He caresses the stupidly pretty mole on the other’s thumb that he’s grown so in love with, that he so loved when Baekhyun held his hand back at home, too. Chanyeol believes in God.

 

Eun lets out a shaky breath. He peers at Chanyeol with a thousand different emotions spilling out of his eyes, love, hope, grief. Chanyeol dismisses all of these for the one that surpasses all the rest in intensity, in power. Eun cannot hide the fact that he knows the truth. This is what he tells him by looking at Chanyeol with wide eyes and a tremor in his lips.

 

_You know who I am._

 

Chanyeol cannot breathe.

 

“I’ve been trying to, babe,” Eun whispers. Chanyeol thinks his voice will disappear soon, it’s dangerously quiet and so unlike Eun that the truth becomes even more apparent. Chanyeol saw this coming, saw the light of his life approaching like the end of a long, long tunnel. He did not expect both of them to ignore each other, though. Chanyeol passing through the tunnel, Eun failing to blind him as he goes.

 

Chanyeol cannot breathe.

 

“Why?”

 

“Oh,” Eun breathes. He is crying now, Chanyeol can see this, a pretty face glistening with wet tears and alive with the colours of the windows around them. “You know why Hyung.”

 

The space between them is rippling and distorting. Chanyeol does not see Eun stumble after him as he rushes through the great doors and outside to find peace under the stars. Even from here, from the bottom of the grand stairs some way away from Eun, Chanyeol can see the other’s glow, the light that he hasn’t seen in so, so long.

 

Eun comes to stand beside him. Chanyeol is not sure what to feel.

 

“How long have you known?” he asks, face cold but voice wavering and hurt.

 

They do not look at each other as they speak, just at the stars that exist majestically above them.

 

“The moment I saw you, Chanyeol,” Eun confesses, and Chanyeol is so, so hurt. He cannot bear the pain in his chest that is crushing his ribs together, squeezing his lungs and heart and stomach into one uneasy mess. But this is how he’s always done it, masked his raging emotions, blanketed his pathetic hurt. He is the hyung here, was always the hyung to his beloved before he packed up and disappeared to another corner of the cosmos.

 

“Baekhyun,” he breathes, and there are tears welling in his eyes, threatening to spill over and drown the both of them. He is not calling his baby to come to him, no. Not a cry of help or comfort for the ghost of his lover to visit him.

 

Baekhyun is right here, existing radiantly beside him, healthy and handsome but a deceiver on top of everything else.

 

“Yes, hyung,” Baekhyun answers. Chanyeol can see the other move his hand to his mouth to quieten the sobs from spilling out.

 

“You cannot pray for more time,” Chanyeol tells his friend. “We had all the time in the world.”

 

Baekhyun remains silent.

 

“And we killed it, Baekhyun.” He turns to look at the man beside him, both their gazes wet, both their hands trembling and wanting to hold onto each other, hold each other close so as to never let go.

 

Baekhyun steps forward, tentative and hesitant, as if he is no longer sure whether he can touch Chanyeol like Eun always did.

 

“How much longer do we have left?” he asks, breath catching in his throat.

 

“Four days.”

 

**Day One of Four.**

 

Chanyeol wakes to Baekhyun buried in his chest, breathing softly into his neck. He is naked, tangled with the other who wears only a t-shirt, but Chanyeol knows they did not do anything last night. Last night they both held each other and cried until they fell asleep, no words spoken, no apologies and confessions bouncing back and forth between them. He supposes that will happen soon. Minseok had watched the both of them stumbling into Baekhyun’s room, face twisted into concern and knowing. He gave a curt nod to Baekhyun, as if in acknowledgement that the deed had been done, that they are both finally at terms with who they were. And then he slipped away, ushered away a worried Jongin who stood biting his lips and messing his hair. He does not like to see his Chanyeol hyung so down.

 

It’s been too long since the last time Chanyeol held Baekhyun like this. They were fourteen when they slept in each other’s arms for the last time in a long time. Chanyeol takes the chance to look at Baekhyun properly, study the lines of his face and relearn the image of his love. He is overwhelmed by the light in his arms. He never imagined that in a million years he would find Baekhyun ever again, let alone stumble into him while running from the torture that awaited him on board the ship. He always believed there’d need to be a miracle, a great, great miracle, for them to come together again.

 

Baekhyun is so pretty. Chanyeol does not remember what Baekhyun used to look like before, the memory of him diminished fast when he stopped visiting him in his sleep. But with each little feature he studies, the more he remembers, vague little memories of staring at the other when he was sleeping, staring at the other when he was bored. Chanyeol does not forget how much he loved him, though.

 

Baekhyun still has those pretty, droopy eyes and droopy mouth, soft and delicate. Still those puffy cheeks, those moles, that neck, those dainty, dainty collarbones. Below that, he is a man. Chanyeol wants to see, wants to devour him, memorise the taste of him so he can never forget. And he will never forget, because they have only four days left together. The flavour of Baekhyun will remain.

 

For a while, Chanyeol thinks he’s gotten it all wrong, that he’s fall for another one of his freakish dreams. Maybe he’s fallen for a beautiful, young boy in the middle of a new and unwavering galaxy. And that should, in all senses, be okay. But it isn’t. Because all Chanyeol sees is _light_ , light that he hasn’t seen since he was fourteen and small and so, so miserable. All Chanyeol’s ever thought of is Byun Baekhyun, not Eun, not pretty little Eun who is too kind and too smart-mouthed and too clever for Chanyeol’s liking. Eun makes him ache, a dull clenching of his chest that grows faster every moment they are together - as if he were truly small again. Chanyeol thinks of Baekhyun, who was everything Eun is, who mirrors Eun so much, who lives in Eun, who smiles just like Eun does, who laughs just like Eun does. And the _light_ \- the light that only belonged to Baekhyun. How could it have been here, in another boy’s body, for another soul to use? Chanyeol remembers knowing that Baekhyun was birthed from a star. Pretty Baekhyun, shining Baekhyun. How many people gulped the stardust around them while they waited in their mother’s womb? Only Baekhyun, surely only Baekhyun. Baekhyun. Baekhyun.

 

“Yes, Chanyeol?”

 

He’s finally awake.

 

Chanyeol excuses himself to see Jongin quickly. The boy crushes him in a warm hug, sighing deeply into Chanyeol’s hair as if relieved at the sight of his friend functioning, alive and well.

 

“Hyung,” he says, more like a question than anything. He peers into Chanyeol’s eyes, searching, searching, beckoning for an answer.

 

“I’m alright, Jongin,” Chanyeol assures. Jongin does not seem to relax. Chanyeol leans forward and presses a soft kiss to Jongin’s lips. A thank you.

 

“Go back to Kyungsoo. He would want you with him more than ever now.”

 

Jongin nods, hugs Chanyeol once more before returning to his room again.

 

“Love you, hyung,” he tells Chanyeol before he breaks the hug, a soft whisper into Chanyeol’s ear.

 

Chanyeol offers a smile.

 

He finds Baekhyun pacing the room, hair a mess from running his hands through it, probably. He stops when Chanyeol closes the door behind him. They stand like this, ten feet apart in a galaxy due to explode in less than a week, and they stare.

 

“Why did you leave me?” Chanyeol blurts out. He is dying to know.

 

Baekhyun remains quiet.

 

“You left me.” Chanyeol says, but he demands an answer, this is for sure.

 

“Yes.”

 

“You left me to die,” Chanyeol chokes out.

 

Baekhyun does not say anything.

 

“You would leave me to die?” Chanyeol sobs again and again, and suddenly Baekhyun is before him, closing his arms around Chanyeol’s head, pulling him gently to his chest. The hurt inside Chanyeol might kill him.

 

“Baby,” Baekhyun calls, voice quivering. Chanyeol lets Baekhyun hold him, lets him move Chanyeol’s legs around his waist, take Chanyeol in his lap. “You have no idea, how much I tried to come back.”

 

It feels so nice, Baekhyun’s warmth around him.  The air grows hotter, Chanyeol is getting ready to burn.

 

“What was keeping you then?!” He does not want to do this, does not want to lose his voice like this. But the ache is unbearable, and Chanyeol is so lost. He moves his fist to meet Baekhyun’s chest, hits him again and again and again, until his sobs die like the strength in his arms and he has no choice but to fall into the other’s embrace.

 

“You-”

 

Baekhyun is quick to quieten him. He moves a hand to the back of Chanyeol’s neck, soothes the skin there with the gentle caress of his thumb. Surely it’ll burn, but he does not make anything of it. Chanyeol hiccups into Baekhyun’s neck, and soon he drifts into a sleepy haze holding Baekhyun tight.

 

“Do you remember, Chanyeol?” Baekhyun murmurs, rocking the tall boy gently in his lap.

 

“You used to hold me like this.”

 

A white light swims around them, twirls and prances and caresses Chanyeol’s cheeks like a lover dancing to the merriest of tunes - joyous, lustful.

 

Chanyeol’s breaths come laboured.

 

"Why did you change your name?" he whispers, hands coming up to hold Baekhyun's face. He lets his fingers caress Baekhyun's skin, smooth and glowing. "Why would you hide from me?" 

 

Baekhyun can see entire oceans in Chanyeol's eyes. He is ashamed, Baekhyun is so ashamed. He's been hiding his entire life.

 

"Because I was afraid," he confesses. He does not meet Chanyeol's gaze. "You were right here before me, all of a sudden a part of my world and I couldn't believe my luck."

 

Chanyeol lets him speak.

 

"I thought you would hate me. I thought, if you ever woke up, you would hate me more than anything. I was a bad friend to you. I left without telling you a word."

 

Baekhyun lets his shame drown him. He cannot feel the love of Chanyeol's affection through the hurt. 

 

"So I made the others call me Eun, so you would never know I was Baekhyun."

 

The universe lets out a deep groan, as if shifting, wincing - in pain. 

 

“And you were never going to tell me?” Chanyeol’s voice comes out as a whisper, quiet and small.

 

Baekhyun does not look at Chanyeol.

 

“You fell in love with Eun.”

 

“No,” Chanyeol fights, so tired, so wrung out. “I fell in love with _you_ , Baekhyun. All those years ago, when were fourteen and stupid and didn’t spend a single moment without each other.”

 

Baekhyun is silent.

 

“Don’t you see Baekhyun?” Chanyeol tries. This is the finale, the last star being placed into the sky. “I am in love with you, I have been in love with you for God knows how many years. I _waited_ every moment of my life to see you again, to meet you again, to kiss you finally, to make you mine. It tore me apart!” Chanyeol’s voice grows and grows. Baekhyun does not quieten him.

 

“It tore me to pieces, Baekhyun! I thought you were-”

 

Baekhyun lets out an ugly sob.

 

“I thought you were dead.”

 

They are both crying again, hiccuping and struggling to gulp the diminishing air around them.

 

“I thought you were dead,” Chanyeol wails quietly, letting his head fall on Baekhyun’s shoulders, hands fisting his shirt.

 

“I should’ve came back for you,” Baekhyun sobs, chest heaving and shoulders shaking. He holds Chanyeol like he’s never held him before, caresses his back and cards his hair. “I should’ve came back for you, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

 

They have three days left to be together. Chanyeol does not know how we will do it, but he will try, God he will try his best. Baekhyun is finally in his arms again.

 

**Day Two of Four**

 

Baekhyun takes Chanyeol’s virginity. He makes love to Chanyeol sitting prettily on his lap, calling him baby and babe and pup, telling him he’s doing so well, he’s doing so well.

 

Chanyeol falls in love all over again with Baekhyun losing himself over Chanyeol’s stomach. They are spent, glistening and breathless.

 

And they kiss like they have just met, tender and shy, sweet and fiery.

 

“How much longer, Yeol?” Baekhyun asks, a mumble.

 

“Two days.”

 

**Day Three of Four**

 

They spend time with the others. Kyungsoo and Minseok prepare a great feast, Junmyeon prepares a lovely table. Chanyeol catches Jongdae shedding a small tear, hurrying to wipe it away. Minseok does that for him.

 

Jongin tells him he loves him an infinite amount of times, an unending stream of “Hyung, I love you so much, okay?”. Chanyeol always says okay.

 

Why does it feel like they are all preparing themselves? A last supper, a last gathering.

 

Chanyeol feasts to forget.

 

**Day Four of Four**

 

Cafe Universe closes for the first time since it started business. They are all awake to see Minseok flip the sign. The morning feels strange, like a cold is settling around them that was never there before. Really, it is very warm, and they all sweat while cleaning the cafe for good. Baekhyun presses secret kisses to Chanyeol’s neck here and there, secret “I love you”s to his ear, to his chest. Chanyeol will cherish those forever, even when he is gone. The sky around them is dark, the stars disappearing into the tear.

 

Chanyeol takes Baekhyun one last time, one last fuck before he lets him go. They cry into each other’s embrace as Chanyeol moves inside him slowly, telling him he is so happy, he is so grateful for Baekhyun’s love. They shower for ages after that.

 

And then, when the end is close, they gather together again sharing cups of warmth. None of them speak a word, just bask in each other’s silences knowing each one translates to love and happiness and bliss. The world around them is crumbling, the space around them warping.

 

And Chanyeol thinks of Yixing. Perhaps he has reached his new home, settled down for a new life. And if he is still on the ship, Chanyeol prays the skies fall around him and the Gods take him swiftly, cradle him in their grasp.

 

 _And Sehun_ , Chanyeol thinks, pulling Baekhyun closer to his chest. The light around them is disappearing now, an enormous darkness approaches fast.

 

 _I will see you soon,_ Chanyeol promises. He does not want to cry. _I will see you soon, Sehun-ah._

 

“Boys!” Jongdae screams, voice dying over the deafening static. He laughs big and loud. “It’s been good!”

 

Suddenly, there is an explosion, great and mighty and merciless. Chanyeol wants to tell them all he loves them, wants to tell Baekhyun he will see him again.

 

But they are gone, just a quickly as they were once there.

 

**Before the end,**

 

The space around Yixing is wondrous tonight. He gazes into the abyss outside the window, eyes reflecting a million twinkling stars. It hasn’t been long since he met Chanyeol, and he will suffer the consequences soon enough; breaching the strict military code is untoward. He was never meant to let the boy back to sleep. In fact, Yixing was meant to kill him, rid of him before his ‘sickness’ could reach their new home.

 

But how could he, when they were so alike?

 

Chanyeol was fire, Yixing a healer. It would have been the first time he met another just like him.

 

And Sehun. Yixing does not regret helping Sehun find a ranger, does not regret comforting him and telling him he will find his friend.

 

“Zhang Yixing.”

 

 _There must be others out there_ , he thinks. The world is enormous, swollen with mysteries unknown to many. And there is time, _the Universe will give them enough time_. Chanyeol will reach a safer place and Sehun will follow.

 

“You understand the crime you have committed.”

 

Chanyeol is young, small still, with a heart that’ll hurt for as long as he remains alone.

 

“You will be punished by death.”

 

 _But he will be okay_ , Yixing remembers. The pain around his neck is unforgiving.

 

_He has Jongin now, and Sehun will remain with him, and Baekhyun will return to him, surely._

 

//

 

Sehun cries when he wakes. Yixing tells him that Chanyeol is safe, that he has woken and escaped.

 

What should he feel? Betrayal? Hurt?

 

But Sehun knows it must have been hard for Chanyeol to make such a decision. Surely he tried to find him before he left. He cannot say Chanyeol has wronged him.

 

“Will you help me find him, hyung?” Sehun asks, voice breaking as he wipes the tears from his face.

 

Yixing helps more than Sehun asks for. He feeds him better than he is supposed to be fed, readies him for his departure, his long journey to Andromeda, Chanyeol’s new home.

 

He kisses him too, sometimes. When Sehun cries out of fear, when Sehun feels alone and doubtful, he presses his lips to the boy’s soft ones to erase the pain. Sehun cannot say he falls for Yixing, but he grows to cherish him, so leaving him behind is hurtful.

 

“Be careful,” Yixing says. He hands Sehun his helmet where they stand on the launching dock.

 

Sehun does not want to cry.

 

“Hyung,” he starts, but he finds his voice falters.

 

Yixing grabs him by the neck, pulls Sehun into a hug that speaks of a love unsecured at its ends, existing as a long, long string ready to be strung between them. He holds him for a while.

 

“When you find him,” Yixing tells Sehun as the boy fastens himself to the seat of the ranger, “tell him I said hello.”

 

Sehun nods, touches his fingers to Yixing’s, and then the hatch of the spacecraft is closing over him and the engines are rumbling awake. Sehun hurtles through space fast, faster than he should be going, faster than his stomach can handle. He needs to find Chanyeol.

 

The weight in his chest is a strange feeling. At times, Sehun knows it’s grief, and longing and fear and doubt. But other times, Sehun can feel it as hope, a simmering feeling.

 

He flies closer and closer to Andromeda with each passing second, but still Sehun is far. He woke almost a year after Chanyeol did. He does not know if he will still be there.

 

The first city he comes across lies in ruins. There’s a rip in the sky not too far away, and Sehun can feel its heat even from where he stands, on a broken slab of concrete floating in space. It seems as though the whole city was built in this way, floating platforms and the like. He refuels his ranger in an abandoned station that lies a little further from the city. There is oil leaking everywhere, like the building itself is melting and letting the liquid ooze out. He is lucky the machine works, pumps fuel into his ranger until it is recharged again.

 

When he prepares to take off, to search the next city for his best friend, Sehun catches sight of something stuck to his engine. He climbs the wing of his ranger to investigate, finds a torn piece of cloth hanging on the motor.

 

“Cafe Universe,” he reads aloud. It looks like an apron, battered and burned.

 

 _There must’ve been one around here,_ Sehun ponders. He looks around for something like a cafe, but it is hard to tell when all there is rubble and dust. It's almost as if the city exploded just hours ago.

 

He tucks the cloth into a pocket in his suit.

 

The ranger takes off smoothly, quenched of its thirst and sated from hunger. Sehun scans the city one last time before he turns around and flies on.

 

_Please wait for me, Chanyeol._

 

Andromeda is a beautiful galaxy. She is mother to lovely stars and mesmerizing planets. But she is dying, this corner of her is already gone.

 

Sehun sets course for the Milky Way, which lies nearby. Chanyeol did always say he would visit Earth, someday.

 

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> happy (very very very very very very very extremely very very very late) birthday bb. sorry for making you wait for so long :(( honestly, i feel like shit giving this to you so late, i hope you like it :( i didn't anticipate i would be so busy around your birthday and in the months following it, forgive me queen!
> 
> to the other ppl who've read this, hello there! this is my very first time writing a whole fic from start to finish! waooooahahhaha. i'm glad i wrote it about exo!!! uwu. 
> 
> funny (and frustrating) story: i kept forgetting Eun was Eun and kept writing Baekhyun even though the whole point was to keep that secret, if not from my audience than from chanyeol loL i literally sweated the entire time editing this because i was so afraid i left "baekhyun" in there somewhere in place of "eun". anyway, hope you liked this fic. i feel like shit for giving yixing and sehun such a tragic fate, but this be angst bros, and your girl gotta do what she gotta do. not really lol i suppose i could've kept them both sane and alive and together with the rest of exo hhhhhhhhh please don't murder me 
> 
> also i know there wasn't a lot of sehun in this even though sehun meant to so much to yeol. i kind wanted to keep it open for other interpretations, uknow? like, they could have been lovers, or just really good friends, or, yeah. and apologies if there were any mistakes in there somewhere, this was all unbetad or however the fuck u spell that word lol. anyway, hope you all enjoyed. i'm excited to write another fic, maybe sometime in the future, we'll see :)
> 
> lastly, before i skidaddle off to school yikes, i wanna say thank you to vanessa. you are such a good friend to me, such a good supporter. love you.


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